


Call to the Colour-blind

by dwell_the_brave



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes-centric, Deaf Clint Barton, F/F, F/M, Implied Relationships, M/M, Oh god help me, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Recovery Bucky Barnes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build, Superfamily (Marvel), currently T rated, might increase in later chapters, tony stark thinks the avengers tower is hogwarts, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-03-04 05:24:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2953913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwell_the_brave/pseuds/dwell_the_brave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier surrendering himself in the lobby of Stark Tower is the first step in getting Bucky Barnes back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Surrender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheaBlackthorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheaBlackthorn/gifts).



> Phew! This started as a road-trip conversation between myself and TheaBlackthorn which spiralled into this monstrosity. It's been a long time since I've posted anything online for public consumption, so I'm pre-emptively apologising. Sorry!
> 
> This is un-Beta'd, so any mistakes are mine and mine alone. 
> 
> Title comes from John Mayer's 'Bigger Than My Body' which is, incidentially, the theme song of this fanfic. Check it out!
> 
> Let's do this!

The Winter Soldier appears in the foyer of the Avengers Tower mid-morning on a cool September day. He introduces himself gruffly to the receptionist, and then turns and kneels on the floor with his hands behind his head as the security guards, a bit belated for dealing with the Winter Soldier, raise their guns and surround him.  

When the emergency alarm goes off on the penthouse, Tony curses loudly from somewhere in the bowels of his workshop and Steve sprints into the communal living room, shouting for someone, _anyone_ to tell him what the Hell is going on?! 

“It’s the Winter Soldier,” Natasha tells him grimly, jerking her chin over at the security feed which is playing on the television. Steve can see that every gun in the room is trained on Bucky and the security bars on the doors and windows slam home with a loud _clang_. 

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Tony snarls, storming into the room. His face is flushed and sweaty, his soldering goggles still perched on top of his head. “What’s your soviet boyfriend doing _now_ , Cap?” Tony snaps, gesturing aggressively at Steve. Steve just rolls his eyes and points at the two of them as he leaves the room.

“Suit up,” is all he says with deathly calm and he ignores Tony swearing after him as he makes his way to the changing room. 

** {#} **

They are down in the lobby in 5 minutes, which is a new record for them. Tony drops down the centre of the building from the open upper floors, his armour catching the sun as he passed the windows. Steve and Natasha take the elevator because neither of them have death wishes or grappling hooks on them. If Steve weren’t about to lose it, he would find it hilarious that while all these highly armoured men have a _lot_ of fire-power trained on his seemingly resurrected (or never really dead to begin with) best friend, the elevator _dings_ cheerily before the doors slide open to let him and Natasha out.

Tony is already in front of Bucky, his hands out in position in case he needs to send a blast directly into Bucky’s face - which is something Steve is hoping, praying, will not happen. Steve gestures to the security guards, who lower their weapons cautiously and nods at Natasha. She darts over, slipping a handgun out of her thigh holster to stand behind Bucky with the gun pressed against his neck. Bucky doesn’t look up from where he’s staring at the marble floor.

Steve feels the shift from _Steve_ to _Captain America_ in the way his muscles move - his posture improves, his spine straightens and his jaw clenches just slightly. The comforting weight of the shield on his back is a constant reminder of the responsibility on his shoulders, and he comes to stand next to Tony, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Do you know where you are?” he asks, feeling his chest rumble with the words. Bucky nods very slightly. “You are surrounded by armed men and women. If you move in a way that might be seen as aggressively, we will not - hesitate in shooting you where you kneel. Do you understand?” he continues, trying to keep his voice strong and steady when every bone in his body rebels against harming Bucky in any way. On the floor, Bucky merely nods again. “My colleague is going to restrain you. We will escort you to a holding cell,” and then he nods at Natasha who, in a smooth motion, lowers her gun and brings Bucky’s arms down to rest behind his back, cuffing him. Tony lowers his arms and Steve reaches forward to help Bucky to his feet. He flinches back but Steve, resolute, hooks a hand under his elbow and pulls him upwards and then together, they walk to the elevator. 

They house Bucky in the Hulk containment cell which is in the penthouse. It was installed at Bruce’s insistence, even if the rest of them hated it. Bucky sits on the floor, staring downwards, hair lank around his face. Steve thinks he looks underweight and malnourishment drags his skin inwards, exposing dark bags under his eyes and a tightness to his mouth that wasn’t there before. It’s been five months - has Bucky been starving this whole time? 

Steve jolts slightly as he feels an arm go around his waist and then he relaxes. Tony’s grip is firm, and he presses a stubbled cheek to Steve’s arm as he steps closer. This thing between them in new and exciting and wildly complicated, but Steve sometimes thinks to himself that it was worth sleeping 70 years in the ice for. 

“How’re you holding up?” Tony asks, his voice softer than earlier. Steve shifts to sling an arm around his shoulders, bringing the shorter man in closer. 

“He’s… lost weight. He looks ill. Natasha thinks he might have a fever, apparently his eyes are a little glazed. She’s gone to call Bruce to come and check him out,” Steve says, his voice quiet. Bucky doesn’t move from his trance on the floor. Tony nods and then turns in Steve’s embrace, reaching up to rub his knuckles across Steve’s jawline.

“You’ve done everything you can for now, Cap. Get some rest - leave the rest of it up to the professionals,” Tony tells him, his voice coaxing and Steve wants to give in, wants to crawl into bed and not move for days.

“What professionals?” he asks instead and Tony shrugs and waves a hand dismissively. 

“Brain wranglers, I don’t know - the professionals who can un-HYDRA your friend, I suppose,” Tony steps away as Bruce and Natasha round the corner and a wide grin spreads across his lips. Natasha is still in uniform, guns and knives glinting like precious jewels on her arms and legs, but Bruce is in a faded shirt and scuffed chinos with a ragged messenger bag slung across his body. Tony looks like Santa just walked in. “Brucie-bear! My favourite science bro!”

“I’m your _only_ science… bro, Tony,” Bruce replies sceptically, and Natasha’s lips quirk up at the corner - this is the closest she ever gets to smiling. Bruce glances at the cell and his lips tighten. “Seems you’ve rented my room out - again,” he says and Steve reaches out to grasp his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. But Bucky… he’s dangerous. And we don’t know how’s he’s going to react, to anything. We thought it was the best place for him,” he explains sincerely and Bruce gives him a half-smile.

“Steve - I’m teasing,” Bruce tells him him a rush of breath and Steve just squeezes his shoulder (so gently) and lets go. Bruce swings his messenger bag around to his front and pulls out a pair of latex gloves, tugging them on with a _snap_.

“Oh Brucie, if I had a medical kink I would be so turned on right now,” Tony breaths and Bruce gives him a baleful look before nodding to Natasha. She calls out the chambers override code and the sealed door slips open with a hushed sound. They both step inside quickly, the door slipping shut again and JARVIS starts streaming the audio from inside. 

“Hello,” that was Bruce’s voice, halting and deep. Tony, bravado gone, reaches for Steve who takes his hand and holds on. “My name is Dr Bruce Banner. Will you let my examine you?” Bruce asks , making sure to keep his body language calm and soothing. Bucky raises his head to look up at him, and then drops it back down. “I don’t think you’re very well, right now. I need to take your temperature to check. If I give you my thermometer, will you listen to my instructions?” Bruce gently coaxes and there is a pause before Bucky nods, once. Bruce crouches down to be level with him, rootling in his messenger bag. He pulls out an old-fashioned thermometer and extends his hand to hand it over. Natasha tenses, preparing to strike.

Bucky reaches for the thermometer, snatching it out of Bruce’s hand before any of them can blink, and Steve can see his eyes flicker upwards, to Bruce.

“Great, thank you,” Bruce sounds relieved. “Could you place that under your tongue for me? We need to wait a minute or two, but it shouldn’t be long,” Bucky obediently places the slim instrument under his tongue and then he stares at Bruce, unmoving.

The minutes are awkward. Bruce explains to Bucky in his calm, measured voice, what he’s doing as he takes a small light and shines it in Bucky’s eyes - Bucky flinches back initially and then settles down. Natasha is an unobtrusive presence, remaining standing nearby. She makes only small careful movements, nothing to jarring. After probably 5 minutes, Bruce thanks Bucky, stands up and they exit the cell.

“Well, he’s definitely not well,” Bruce says once they’re clear. Steve has a forearm resting on the glass, his forehead pressed close as he watches Bucky breathe. “I think he might have pneumonia but I can’t be certain without listening to his lungs, and I don’t think he’d let me. I can’t see if he’s malnourished without, well, stripping him but I would think he certainly needs some food,”

“What do we do next then?” Steve asks quietly and Tony runs a hand up his bicep to grasp his shoulder.

“JARVIS,”

“ _Sir_ ,” JARVIS’ polite tones echo through the clinical hallway.

“Release the anaesthetic gas,” Tony commands and Steve turns, aghast, just as a faint hiss sounds in the cell. Bucky twitches where he sits, wobbles a bit and then slowly slumps over. Steve lets out a choked sound and bangs his fist on the glass.

“It’s just knocked him out, Cap, it won’t do him any harm,” Natasha says soothingly, and she and Bruce slip back into the room.

** {#} **

They get Bucky rigged up in the tower’s medical centre, hooked to machines and various gadgets that Steve couldn’t name, let alone tell you the function of. The doctors (well, the one brave enough to approach him) pump him full of antibiotics and fluids and vitamin, but keep Bucky sedated.

“So he doesn’t go all Texas Chainsaw Massacre on us, Cap,” Tony says in that blasé way of his, not noticing how Steve winces. Steve is stationed by Bucky’s bed, holding his hand tightly and stroking his thumb over Bucky’s flesh-and-bone knuckles. Tony spends his time lingering in a corner of the room, never venturing too close and Steve is fully aware its because Tony _knows_ , now, who killed his parents and why. Tony can’t forgive Bucky, not as easily as Steve can.

On the third day, the (extremely well-paid) doctors bustle into the room and ask Steve to leave while they prepare Bucky for surgery. Steve finds himself shoved into the same corner Tony usually resides in, gaping.

“Surgery for what?” he asks and Tony is there at his side in an instant, reaching for his hand. 

“They’re removing the arm, Steve,” Tony says quietly and the blond shrugs him off, staring.

“But it’s _his arm_ ,” he says, horrified and Tony holds his hands up in surrender. 

“I know you think that Steve, but it’s a weapon, it was built to be a weapon and its not safe for him to have it,” Tony explains all in one breath and Steve feels himself deflate, feels his vision tunnel-vision and then he’s trying to shoulder past Tony to get to the bed where a nurse is currently feeding something in the IV in Bucky’s arm. Tony (tries to) stop him, and then Thor is in his way, when did he get back from New Mexico?

“My friend, you must rest,” Thor intones and then Steve slumps, asleep. 

 **{#}**  

“That was a dirty trick you played,” Steve says later, when he’s awake and sitting in a cushy armchair in the communal living room. Tony is drinking from a juice box, (JARVIS orders them because Thor seems to love them, and because Clint enjoys making little blow-guns out of them), and he hums noncommittally from the sofa next to him, flicking through a 3-month old copy of ELLE magazine that he stole from the medical floor. He is paying a disturbing amount of attention to _THIS SEASONS LIPSTICKS; CORAL PASSION_. 

“You went all Lone Ranger on me, Cap, I think you were about to snap some poor nurse over your knee,” Tony said, turning a page. Steve raises an eyebrow at him.

“I would never-,”

“Oh, she’d probably enjoy it, but _still_.” Tony glances up, then huffs and folds the corner of his page over. He then closes the magazine and puts in down on the floor, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. “Cap, I didn’t ask Thor to knock you out for shits and giggles. Bruce, who was one of the Doctors you were about to go _47 Ronin_ on, by the by, noticed that your little tin soldier’s heart rate was spiking while you were getting stressed. _You_ getting stressed was getting him stressed - do super soldiers use osmosis, do you know?” and with that, Tony sinks back into his spot and picks up the magazine. 

“… It concerns me when you’re the rational one,” Steve says with a hint of bemusement and Tony snorts a laugh. A clatter of noise rings up from the hallway and Steve straightens in the armchair, craning his neck. It’s Bruce, in plain blue scrubs, rubbing tiredly at his face. Even Tony looks up.

“He’s fine,” Bruce says before he even reaches them, which makes Steve slump in relief. “He’s not awake yet but the arm has been replaced and-,”

“Replaced? I thought you said they were going to remove it,” Steve asks Tony, his tone accusatory. Tony shrugs and moves on to _BLUNT OR ROUNDED MANICURES - WHAT OUR EXPERTS SAY!_ with a flourish.

“I may have played around in the workshop,” he says with a small smile on his face. Steve looks at Bruce, hoping that the more reasonable of the self-dubbed Science Bros might be able to shed some light. Bruce collapses onto the other sofa and drops his head back.

“Bucky has now been fitted with an ultra-light arm. It shouldn’t cause him any pain, the wiring is connected to what was already there and-,”

“It should have smoother receptors and a quicker response time. No more grabby hands for Sergeant Barnes!” Tony says smoothly and then Steve is standing in front of him, hands braced on the armchair wings either side of Tony’s body. Tony tenses because Cap has his best poker face on and its kind of terrifying.

“Thank you,” Steve breathes and leans forward for a quick kiss. Clint drops from one of the ventilation shafts.

“EW.” 

** {#} **

Bucky came out of sedation a day later. Steve watches as he struggles to the surface, his eyes blinking lazily and then a gasp of air through his lips. He struggles a little, but he’s too doped up to do any damage.

“Easy,” Steve murmurs, standing nearby. “What do you remember?” he asks and Bucky gasps something and then eyes the glass of water. Steve helps him sit up, adjusts his pillows, and holds the glass while Bucky sips from the straw. Steve smiles and helps him lie back. 

“N-nothing,” Bucky gets out, his voice rough. The doctors warned Steve that due to the tubing down his throat, his voice would probably be rough for a while. Steve had nodded with feigned interest.

“Okay,” Steve says, putting the glass back down and taking a seat. “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. I call you ‘Bucky’. About a week ago, you surrendered yourself here in Stark Tower and you’ve been pretty much under medical care since. You were really sick,” Steve says, surprised how strong his voice sounds despite the worry that courses through him.  

“How?” Bucky grinds out and Steve gives him a weak smile.

“Very sick. Pneumonia, for one. You were pretty dangerously underweight - you still are, in fact, but the doctors are gonna feed you up. You - You’re safe, Buck,” Steve swallows and feels his throat click. He reaches for Bucky’s hand, but Bucky flinches away. “We’re gonna keep you safe here, okay? Until you’re better,” Steve promises and when he next looks up, Bucky has gone back to sleep. 

** {#} **

They introduce the Avengers slowly. Bruce first, as the least threatening (unless he’s angry) out of all of them. Bruce sits with Bucky for an hour, talking to him about his work in India and how he cares for the team now, because they’re all reckless idiots with no sense of self-preservation (Bruce’s words). 

Natasha next, because she had already met Bucky before. She speaks to him in low Russian and even when he flinches to begin with, she presses on until they’re both talking fluently, small smiles creeping onto Bucky’s lips. She gives him a kiss on the cheek when she leaves.

Thor is next. Steve isn’t sure how it’s going to go, but Thor enters with all the finesse of a stampede, takes a seat with Mjolnir on this thigh and begins to tell story after story of great battles and fierce warriors. Bucky seems to enjoy them, and asks about Mjolnir - Thor tells him the history of the hammer and Bucky is awed. He’s almost sad to see Thor go. Notably, Thor does not offer Bucky Mjolnir, to see if he is ‘worthy’. 

Tony volunteers after Thor, because no one can find Clint. He seems to have taken to lurking in the ventilation shafts, which Natasha jokily calls his ‘Happy Place’, but it does seem to be where Clint hides when he’s stressed. Steve isn’t sure why Clint finds this stressful.

Tony carefully avoids all mentions of Bucky’s past as the Winter Soldier and sticks to neutral topics like the arm. Tony is so damn proud of the arm. When Bucky had fully regained consciousness, he had said the arm felt different, but it was only when Tony came to introduce himself that Steve fully understands the changes that Tony had made to it. 

“It’s lighter, made of a vibranium alloy, it shouldn’t throw you off balance so much now. The receptors are more sensitive too, you should have a smoother movement and your response time will be more natural,” Tony explains calmly, though Steve can tell by the way he’s tapping his fingers where the arc-reactor used to sit, that Tony’s anxious. Bucky nods along and then raises his metal hand. The fingers carefully flex and there is a hint of a smile on Bucky’s lips.  

“Thank you,” he says, sincere. Tony merely waves a hand dismissively and then launches into an explanation about the upgrades in technology since the 1940s.

That’s the thing.

Bucky may have surrendered himself to the Avengers, but he still doesn’t remember the past. Steve is kicked out of medical every night and in the morning he hears the same thing from the nurses - “Sgt Barnes woke himself up screaming last night,”. So Bucky has nightmares, but when Steve tries to ask him what they’re about, he gets no response. Bucky doesn’t want to share his demons, it seems. 

But Steve tries to help Bucky find himself again. He asks the Smithsonian for a DVD of the footage they have and some copies of the photographs on display and he’s pretty sure the exhibition manager nearly hyperventilates when she realises she’s taking a call from _The_ Captain America and Steve has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the hysteria on the other side of the phone. But she agrees and the next week he asks Tony to set up the DVD player in Bucky’s room, which he does though he complains the whole time (“I have a goddamn doctorate in Engineering for fuck’s sake, why the hell am I setting up a goddamn Toshiba DVD player, goddammit Steve, why couldn’t you have bought at _least_ a Sony, does modern technology offend you or something?”). Steve makes sure he is rewarded later for his co-operation. 

Tony advises after that he is available at all hours for Steve’s technological needs as long as _that_ is his form of payment. 

When they have a quiet afternoon, Steve loads up the DVD the Smithsonian sent over and watches the decades old footage with Bucky. There they are in France, Steve hunched over the hood of a car, map spread and his compass in his hand - Bucky is next to him looking bored, Dum-Dum saying something and Gabe grinning. Next, footage of Steve in a meeting with Colonel Phillips and Peggy and some war council who are all dead and gone by now - in the corner of the room is Bucky, sitting slouched in an uncomfortable chair in his dress uniform. 

Hours and hours of footage of them, fighting, laughing, in a rare shot, sleeping. Bucky is sprawled across a cot, arm thrown above his head and his mouth parted slightly. Steve is next to him, curled tight like in sleep he forgot how much bigger he was, his face relaxed. They look peaceful. 

The DVD finishes and Steve looks over to find that both of Bucky’s hands are clenched tight, knuckles white on his flesh-and-blood hand and the metal one making strained sounds as the servos try to keep up with the pressure. 

“Bucky?” Steve asks, dropping the remote and reaching for his friend. Bucky flinches away, his breathing ragged and his eyes wild. Steve backs off slowly, reaching for the emergency alarm which goes off without a sound in the room. “Its okay, Bucky, someone’s coming. They’re going to take care of you, okay?” he says soothingly and Bucky’s head snaps back, his body tensing. Steve gapes as the emergency team rush in. 

“He’s seizing,” someone says and Steve feels himself being pulled out of the room by a stern looking orderly. Bucky’s body twists and jerks on the bed and someone has lowered the pillows so he’s lying flat but not really, not when his body is arching and bucking and shivering and- 

“Steve!” there is a shout and Steve turns to see Clint running towards him. He is in the hallway, his hands empty and Steve doesn’t know what to do with them so it helps when Clint pulls him into a hug. “Don’t look Steve, don’t look,” Clint is muttering, pulling Steve’s face to rest against his neck. 

Steve doesn’t look.

** {#} **

“They think that the footage triggered some sort of reaction with his programming,” Bruce explains later, when they’re all gathered in the living room. Bucky is once again sedated in the medical wing and no one will tell Steve when they’ll wake him up. “The overload caused him to have a seizure. It… it shouldn’t be a regular thing, Steve,” he explains softly, looking over at their leader. Steve is staring dumbly at the glass top of the coffee table and next to him, Tony is rubbing circles into his back, trying to work out some tension.

“I’m going to bed,” Steve says after a few moments of silence. It’s 8pm and yet he doesn’t think he’s ever been more exhausted. Tony rises with him and they make their way to Steve’s suite. 

Steve’s room is simple, really, discounting the floor to ceiling glass windows. It’s painted in neutral shades, and the furniture is all wooden, sturdy. There is a canvas on an easel in the corner and paints on every surface and Steve has never felt more at home than in here. 

He kicks off his shoes and shucks his trousers, leaving him in boxers and a t-shirt. He slips into the bed and looks up vaguely startled when he feels the other side dip with Tony’s weight. Tony raises an eyebrow at him (‘What?’) and then settles, reaching out to pull Steve against him. Tony presses a kiss to his temple and the beard scratches his face and Tony is talking lowly to him.

“He’ll be okay, Cap. You’ll see. He’ll be okay,” 

Steve hums slightly and falls into fitful dreams.

 


	2. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! The cast of characters expands~
> 
> (Seriously you guys there are SO MANY people in the MCU and I think most of them make an appearance in this fic... T^T)

They call a meeting with the medical team in the morning, and Tony asks Maria Hill to attend as well. She arrives immaculately dressed and sits next to Steve. He thinks she’s probably terrorised the medical team in the past because none of them will look at her. 

“Sgt Barnes condition is a complicated one,” Dr Sanjeet explains, his hands folded on top of the tablet in front of him. “In addition to dealing with his physical symptoms, the pneumonia and malnutrition, we must also deal with the mental side of things,” and Tony taps a pen against the table.

“Such as?” Maria asks, looking up from the tablet she was typing on. Her voice is measured and one of the doctors flinches away. Dr Sanjeet seems to be made of sterner stuff.

“For one thing, Post-traumatic Stress. Sgt Barnes has been through a great ordeal, and understandably he is still dealing with that. His… programming, for lack of a better word, is breaking down but it’s a slow process and, unfortunately Captain Rogers, your showing him the footage of yourselves has probably caused him great anguish,” his voice is laced with sympathy but Steve feels shame drive through him like a lance. 

_He caused this. He hurt Bucky_. 

“What do you recommend?” He finds himself asking quietly. 

“Sgt Barnes should be seeing a regular therapist. Dr Hummel,” a man in his mid-thirties with dark brown hair raises his hand in greeting, “Is our on-staff therapist and he specialises in Post-Traumatic Stress and veteran mental health,” 

“Helpful,” Tony says, fake-cheerfully and Dr Hummel looks over his glasses at Tony who shrinks back. His fake bravado wasn’t going to fly here. 

“I will see Sgt Barnes every day. I think we can start at the hospital, but it would do him well to be reintegrated soon - he’s alone for a good half of the day, despite your best efforts Captan Rogers, and company or least some hum of activity will do him good,” Dr Hummel explains and Steve nods.

“How long until we can move him-?” Steve asks but Dr Hummel clears his throat, catching all their attention again. Tony raises an eyebrow at him.

“I wasn’t quite finished,” He says politely but firmly. “ I feel, given Sgt Barnes history of a… lack of autonomy, as it were-,”

“You mean the brainwashing?” Tony asks pointedly and Dr Hummel gives a small smile. 

“Yes, that. Given his history of this, it would be more beneficial to him if he were given a chance to decide for himself,” Dr Hummel explains and Steve’s jaw drops open, while Maria straightens in her chair. 

“Until 6 months ago, Sgt Barnes was an agent of HYDRA. Brainwashing or not, that makes him a threat to international security, _regardless_ -,” she stares Tony down until his mouth closes. “of SHIELD’s own problems. Giving Sgt Barnes autonomy could compromise a lot of important people,” 

“I didn’t mean decided whether or not to invade Iraq, Commander Hill,” Dr Hummel explains, folding his hands in front of him on the table. “We should start small. Does he want the television on or off? What would he like to watch? Does he want sugar in his coffee. Little things that he can decide for himself without detriment to others. Sgt Barnes must learn what it is to make choices again, and to decide for himself,” Dr Hummel explains serenely and Steve nods along.

“Yes, whatever helps Bucky get back to normal-,” he says, stopping when he realises he might’ve said the wrong thing. Dr Hummel’s eerie eyes are staring over the rim of his glasses, directly at Steve.

“There is no normal, Captain Rogers. I believe that the Bucky Barnes you remember is sadly, long gone. But we have a chance here to rebuild Sgt Barnes into the person he wants to be, and that shall have to be enough,”

{#}

“Do you want the window open, Buck?” Steve asks three days later. Bucky is sat up in the hospital bed, poking at a banana forlornly. He had asked for one, and then realised he didn’t like the taste, but something in him refuses to let the banana go to waste. He looks away from the fruit to where Steve was and gave a slow blink.

“I-i,” he stutters and then frowns, looking around for someone to prompt him into deciding. Steve bites his lip. “No - not yet,” Bucky eventually says, and Steve nods and gives him a small smile.

“Whatever you want,” Steve agrees, slouching back into the armchair by the bed. He and Bucky have been reading The Hobbit, chosen by Bucky, all afternoon. “Do you want to read next, or shall I?” he asks, and Bucky chews his lip. Each decision takes at least a minute of internal debate and Steve finds each second heartbreaking. He can remember a time when Bucky made snap judgements and leapt into the fray without thinking about it. 

“You,” Bucky says and Steve smiles, nodding.  He reaches for the book and opens to where they left off. 

“ _There is more in you of good than you know, child of the kindly West. Some courage and some wisdom, blended in measure. If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world._ ” Steve reads and he continues until a light rap on the door signals a guest. Bucky shifts in the bed, still wary of strangers entering. It’s Natasha. 

“Good afternoon Яша,” she says, the nickname rolling off her tongue delicately. Bucky smiles at her with warmth in his eyes - they usually speak in Russian together, the language a thick cloud between them and Steve can pick out a few words here and there that he knows, but they are few and far between.

“Hello,” Bucky replies and Natasha gives a ghost of a smile before turning her attention to Steve. 

“Docs say he’s good to go, so whenever you’re ready,” and Steve nods. He puts the book down and leans close to Bucky. 

“You know I live in this tower, right?” he asks, and Bucky’s hand reflexes. Steve has learned not to flinch. The other man nods cautiously, looking like he fears he’s about to be told off, but Steve just smiles softly. “I live on another floor here, in the penthouse. We all do - Natasha, Tony, Thor, Bruce and Clint-“ 

“The Ласточка?” Bucky asks and Steve knows enough Russian to know Bucky just called Clint a ‘sparrow’ - he doesn’t think Clint will be happy with that nickname. 

“Yes, Clint. We all live upstairs and the doctors have said you’re well enough to, well, move in with us… if you want to,” Steve asks, phrasing it like a question rather than a request. Bucky tenses, reaching to twist the bed sheets with his hands. He has been taking small trips out of the bed, walks around the hospital floor and sessions in the physiotherapy suite, getting used to the new arm. But he still tires easily and the doctors think he still needs to gain some weight. 

“Move in? With you?” Bucky chews on his bottom lip for a second and then frowns. “Like in… in Brooklyn? Before?” he asks and Steve grins, heart in his throat. 

“Yes, like in Brooklyn before. But this time you can have your own room, Buck,” and Bucky shrinks away again. Steve eases off. “You don’t have to decide now. Maybe later?” Steve suggests, reaching to pick up the book again where he had tossed it onto the bed. Bucky’s hand reaches out and grasps his wrist, gently. 

“I’d like to,” Bucky says, a frown on his face but Steve nods with a sigh of relief.

“Okay, we’ll get you moved upstairs,” 

{#}

“I didn’t realise we’d be playing Barbie Dream House with your resurrected best friend,” Tony sulks later, when they’re getting ready for bed. Steve frowns at him, shucking his t-shirt and reaching up to run a hand through his hair. Tony’s whinging trails off while he stares, and then he shakes himself. “No, wait, you can’t just pout and flex your abs and make me forget all about it,” 

Steve rolls his eyes and climbs into bed, pulling the sheet over his legs. He reaches for the book that sits on his side of the bed ( _his side_ ) that never gets read and opens to the last page he remembers reading. Tony, in retaliation, tugs his night shirt on jerkily and then practically launches himself onto the bed, landing with his face near Steve’s leg. With a groan, he slings his arm over Steve’s legs and hugs them close, pressing his face to Steve’s thigh. Steve readjusts the book and reaches to run a hand through Tony’s hair.

“He’s not moving _in_ , Tony, I’m not asking you to bunk with him,” Steve explains, trying to focus on the words on the page. “I just think it’ll be good for him to have some company. You can keep a closer eye on his arm and-,” and he notices how Tony tenses against him. Steve stops stroking his hair and puts one hand on Tony’s shoulder, rubbing softly. “Hey, you okay?” he asks and Tony pushes himself with a sigh. He sits up against the headboard and crosses his arms over his chest. Steve frowns and closes the book. “Tony?” he asks. 

“I’ve read the file,” Tony says, his voice low. “I know what he’s done. Who he’s killed. And my-,” and then Tony chokes, reaching up to fists his hands in his hair. Steve reaches for one, tangling their fingers together. Tony takes a moment to compose himself and then he looks over with haunted eyes. “I know he killed my parents, Steve,” is all he says and Steve finds himself staring.

“I-it wasn’t him,” he says and Tony waves a hand to hush him. 

“I know, I know! He wasn’t in control then, is barely in control now, I get that,” he says all in a rush and Steve falls silent. Tony twists his hands in his lap. “And I know Howard was a son of a bitch but damn, Steve - like that? And - and what if he saw? What if he recognised him?” he says out loud and Steve gives up, reaching over for his boyfriend and pulling him close, half into his lap. Tony makes a sound like a sob and Steve hushes him, tucking Tony’s head under his chin.

“No, no, you can’t think like that,” he says, feeling his voice rumble in his chest. “Even if Howard - did, he can’t tell us now. You can’t think like that Tony, it’ll drive you mad,” and Tony gasps out something like a laugh against his chest.

“I’m already halfway there, Cap. Already halfway there,” 

{#}

The next morning, Steve and Bruce help move Bucky up to the main floor. The nurses all come by to see him off, and Bucky dresses himself in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a warm hoodie Bruce brings down. Steve asks who they belong too and Bruce just smiles. They aren’t Bruce’s - they’re bought for someone taller and leaner and Steve thinks for a second it might be Tony, but he can’t be entirely sure. They don’t bother with shoes, just giving Bucky some thick socks and some slippers to pad around in. They have bunny-rabbits on the toes and Bucky gives him a baleful look, but puts them on anyway.

JARVIS greets them at the elevator, causing Bucky to jump and crouch low in one smooth movement, but Bruce keeps speaking to him and brings him up to a standing level without anything being damaged. At last, they reach the communal floor.

“ _Authorised personnel entering. Please register your full name for voice recognition_ ,” JARVIS asks once they step out of the elevator. Bucky looks confused.

“He means you,” Bruce advises and Bucky nods, understanding, but the frown doesn’t disappear.

“What’s the matter?” Steve asks and Bucky looks over at him.

“I don’t know my name,” he says and Bruce’s mouth makes a funny shape. 

“Repeat after me, okay? My name is James Buchanan Barnes. Can you say that?” Steve prompts, Bucky watching his mouth carefully. He repeats the words and JARVIS makes a chiming sound.

“ _Voice recognition authorised. Welcome to Avengers Tower, Sgt Barnes,_ ” JARVIS says and Bucky gives a small smile, though he is still look around carefully. 

“JARVIS runs the tower,” Steve explains, cupping his hand around Bucky’s elbow and guiding him further into the penthouse. 

“He’s… the butler?” Bucky guesses and JARVIS chimes in.

“I _am more than that, Sir, as you will discover in your own time,”_ he explains and Bucky nods. 

In the living room sits Thor, who rises with a grin on his face. He spreads his arms wide, the t-shirt he wears straining against the seams at the movement. 

“My friend!” he booms, and Bucky’s face lights up. Thor walks over from the living room to the entrance hall and pulls Bucky into a bear hug. He lets him go with a clap to the shoulders. “It is good to see you, James. Very good,” 

“Yeah yeah, we’re all _super_ glad Soviet Barbie here could join us,” Tony snarks loudly from where he appears by the kitchen. Natasha steps out from behind him, flipping her hair.

“I thought I was Soviet Barbie?” she asks, a note of teasing in her voice and Tony rounds on her.

“No, you’re Assassin Tweedle-dee,” he says and Steve shakes his head. Natasha gives a small smirk and goes over to give Bucky a kiss on the cheek. He smiles, but then steps away. Steve has been around him enough to know when that’s Bucky’s cue to have some alone time.

“Well, let’s get you settled in Bucky, and then you can have the grand tour,” Steve suggests and Bucky nods, looking relieved. Steve takes him to his own suite within the penthouse.

Tony had gotten a bit carried away when rebuilding the top floors of the tower - all the Avengers suites are located in the immediate floors below the penthouse, and only Tony has rooms on the main floor. The other suites are accessible either by a coded voice-authorisation from the main elevators, or by finding the ‘secret entrance’ in the penthouse. Steve likes to think his is simple - the door is behind a cabinet full of vintage Captain America memorabilia. Tony had done it as a joke, but Steve quite appreciated having his old sketchbooks so close by. He shows Bucky the trick switch on the cabinet’s side which let it swing open like a door and Bucky gapes at him. 

Down a spiral staircase there are four rooms, as well as a bathroom and small kitchenette. One has been made a studio, one is unofficially Sam’s room, the other is Steve’s (which is rarely used these days), and the other is a guest, which will now be Bucky’s. He shows Bucky to the guest room and Bruce leaves them to it. “This can be your room, if you like. It has great views over the city. We can get you some things - books, music, whatever you like,” Steve knows he’s rambling but he can’t help it. Bucky is looking around, studying the room and then he slowly nods. He turns to Steve with a wary half-smile.

“I like it,” 

Steve feels himself sag with relief. “That’s - that’s great,” he says and he means it. “Do you want some time alone?” he asks and Bucky nods. Steve smiles and turns to head back through the door. “If you need anything, just ask JARVIS. He’ll be able to help you,” he explains and then he leaves, pulling the door to behind him. 

{#}

Alone in his room, Bucky takes a moment to look around. There is only one doorway into the room, but there is a vent high up on the wall which is a security risk, though the security in actually entering the suite is decent enough. One wall is lined with windows which look bullet-proof on first glance alone. The furniture is sturdy, simple but effective. A bed facing into the room (which he intends to change), a single wardrobe, chest of drawers and some bookshelves. 

It is simple, but a lot nicer than… other places he might’ve been beforehand. He can remember the rough coldness of concrete beneath his body, if he thinks too hard. He sinks down onto the bed and runs a hand idly across the bedsheets - they whisper underneath his touch. It is warm, comforting and there’s a good chance he can make it feel like -

No. Home was a very long time ago. 

Bucky makes a small sound, one he doesn’t know the meaning of, and he thinks. Soon, they will realise who he is - what he’s _done_. And when that happens, soft bedding might be a thing of the past. He might as well enjoy it while he can. 

If he notices the small _creak_ that comes from inside the vent, he doesn’t react. But whatever was there turns and crawls away, not wanting to interrupt a soldier coming home to rest. Bucky lies down on the bed, tucked against the headboard, and goes to sleep. 

{#}

They gather for dinner, Steve collecting Bucky from his room to go to the kitchen. It’s been a team effort tonight, with Bruce, Steve and Clint chipping in, and Tony sulking on the island because Natasha questioned his cooking skills - apparently Pepper had told her about the omelette incident. 

It starts off well. Bucky is half-asleep, having just been woken up, and he watches from the side-lines, the hoodie tucked over his left arm to keep all the metal concealed. Steve teases Clint about his use of herbs and in retaliation, Clint whips Steve _hard_ with a tea-towel. Before anyone can say anything, Bucky has Clint pressed against the fridge, his arm braced across Clint’s neck with a glint in his eye. 

“Don’t. Hurt. Him,” is all Bucky growls before Thor is on him, dragging him away with soothing words. ‘Be calm my friend, all is well.’ Clint gasps for breath, his eyes wild and hurt, and when Natasha reaches for him, he shrugs her off and shoulders his way out of the room. Steve turns on Bucky.

“What d’ya do that for?” he asks, his accent slipping slightly. Bucky breathes deeply, Thor’s arm still across his chest, holding him still. 

“He tried to hurt you,” is all Bucky says and Steve raises both his eyebrows. Tony snorts. 

“You think a piece of cloth is going to hurt ol’ Capsicle here?” Tony says, gesturing at Steve’s 6-foot-plus form. Bucky feels the tension leave his body and Thor lets him go. 

“I’m… sorry,” is all he can say and Steve nods, placing his hands on his hips. Tony reaches forward and places one hand on his bicep, which Steve covers with his own. Natasha is glaring daggers and Bruce is focussing on making sure dinner doesn’t burn. 

“You don’t need to say that to me,” is all Steve says, before turning back to help Bruce, Natasha sliding in to easily take Clint’s place. Bucky nods and slips out of the room. He looks up at the ceiling.

“Where’s Clint, JARVIS?” he asks quietly.

“ _Mr Barton is currently in his room. He is on top of the wardrobe, in case you cannot see him initially,_ ” JARVIS replies helpfully. Bucky stands for a moment, thinking back to his knowledge of the tower layout. He could get the elevator down to Clint’s floor, but he’s pretty certain he knows where the penthouse entrance is. He goes back to the kitchen, ignoring the looks of the other Avengers, and opens the cupboard under the island in the centre of the kitchen - but instead of shelves, there is a narrow staircase. Tony makes some comment in the background as Bucky ducks inside, climbing down. 

On the floor below is a small landing, with a single window over-looking the city. There’s a window seat built in, covered in cushions with a rumpled blanket balled up on one side, but that’s all on this level. The next staircase is wider, and below Clint’s suite is laid out similarly to Steve’s, but with only two bedrooms. The first is seemingly empty, but the second - Clint is exactly where JARVIS said he would be, perched on top of the sturdy looking wardrobe in the corner of the room. He glares at Bucky when he enters and plucks at his bow. 

“What?” he asks and Bucky twists his hands together, heedless of the metal on show. Clint’s eyes flicker to it, and his mouth slacks a little.

“I forget, sometimes,” Bucky explains, chewing his lip. “That I’m not - _him_ , anymore. Or, I’m not supposed to be. This is the longest I’ve gone without being… on ice. On being reset. But sometimes its hard to forget the programming they put in place. It’s hard to forget that I’m not a _weapon_ anymore,” he explains, spitting out the word. 

Clint grunts out something that could be mistaken for a laugh. “I know how that is,” he says, loud enough for Bucky to hear. The other man crosses his arms, and then sees the metal glint in the corner of his eye and seems to think better of it, dropping his arms to his sides and pulling the sleeve over his left hand.

“Do you?” he asks and Clint looks at him, eyes sharp before he jerks his head to the bedroom door.

“Door’s there. Please let it hit you on the way out,” he says and Bucky takes that as his dismissal.

{#}

Things are terse between them for a long while. Bucky chaffs against the restraints put in place by the doctors - no weapons training, no hand-to-hand combat, no _actual_ combat. He is relegated to sitting in front of the TV, watching various TV shows and sitcom reruns. He takes a real shine to _Dancing with the Stars_ , and when Sam comes back from wrapping things up with the VA in Washington, he joins him on the sofa watching it.

“Whitney moves like she’s on air,” Bucky says one evening, both men sprawled over sofas with popcorn littered around them. Steve had given up trying to clean up after them days ago. 

“Yeah, but bringing the ‘Carlton’ dance back - great move,” Sam says, shoving a handful of salted popcorn in his mouth. Bucky lifts his head and frowns at him.

“The ‘Carlton’?” he asks and Sam bolts upright.

“You’ve never seen Fresh Prince?” he says and Bucky shakes his head, confused. Sam swings his legs onto the floor, pushing himself to standing. “DAMMIT STEVE!” he shouts and Steve appears from the kitchen, his hands damp from washing the dishes (he doesn’t trust the dishwasher to do it well).

‘What’d I do?” he asks and Sam points at Bucky.

“You were _supposed_ to get him caught up? Remember - Marvin Gaye, Disco, Star Wars and Fresh - Prince - of - Bel - Air,” Sam says, marking each pause with a jab in Steve’s direction. Bucky finds his body tensing at the aggressive movements and then forces himself to relax - no one here will hurt Steve. At least, not without having to try really damn hard. 

“JARVIS,” Sam commands with a kingly air. The response is amused.

“ _Yes, Sgt Wilson?_ ” 

“Gimme my main man Will,” Sam says and then he flops back onto the sofa as the opening music begins. Bucky pulls the blanket that lies across the back of the sofa onto himself and settles in. 

Natasha joins them soon after, slipping onto the arm of the sofa next to Bucky. Part way through an episode, she starts combing her fingers through Bucky’s hair idly, which causes him to tense. Sam doesn’t miss it, and is watching them both carefully, ready to intervene. She keeps petting Bucky until he relaxes though, and then she shifts her weight slightly. It puts him on high alert again.

“We should cut your hair,” she says, her voice gentle and coaxing. Bucky prepares to protest but then looks at Sam - the other man doesn’t give anything away aside from slightly raising one eyebrow as if to say ‘She’s going to do it whether you’re conscious or not,’. Bucky nods his assent and Natasha smiles at him, as brilliant as the sun. 

{#}

“My friend, this is the Lady Jane,” is how Thor introduces Bucky to his girlfriend a few weeks later. He is still getting used to his short hair (he still moves his head like his hair was longer), and has some new clothes which include a lot of black and grey, and he’s starting to feel a bit more human. But that doesn’t mean that the woman with large doe-eyes in front of him doesn’t look highly breakable.

“Hi, uh, most people just call me ‘Jane’,” she offers her left hand to shake and Bucky hesitates, before reaching to take hers with his. She starts at the feel of the cold metal on her palm, but fails to hide the gape of awe when she looks at his arm. “Oh wow-,” she says and then a busty brunette elbows her out of the way.

“Hello, tall, dark, and Terminator,” the woman says with lips like poison. Bucky stares at her - she is aggressively sexy, despite the hair that looks the wrong side of windswept and the stained jumper she has on. She gives her a once over and grins a very wicked grin. “Oh, you and I are going to have fun,” is all she says and Thor’s chuckle makes the walls reverberate.

“This is the lady Darcy, my sweet Jane’s assistant. Ladies, this is Sergeant James Barnes - he is the Captain’s friend from ages past,” he adds in a low voice and both women gape. Darcy grins first.

“You’re looking mighty fine for a guy approaching his first century,” she says and Bucky feels a smirk tug on the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you kindly,” he says with sarcasm and she laughs and claps her hands. 

“WHERE IS DARCY?” Tony shouts from further down the hallway. Darcy’s face lights up and then she’s running down the hall to bounce into his embrace. Tony swings her around and then lets her go. “Look at you, my sweet child of science and darkness,” he coos at her and Bucky gets the oddest feeling that Tony would make her into a robot if it were socially acceptable to do so. Darcy just grins. 

“Where’s your cutie-patootie Greek God of a boyfriend?” she asks and Tony casts a quick glance over to Bucky. Darcy follows his gaze and then her eyes snap back to his. “Noooo, you haven’t-!” and then Tony claps a hand over her mouth.

“Workshop is this way, there is tech galore, you’re welcome to come along Jane, toodles!” Tony says quickly before dragging Darcy after him. Bucky shakes his head and turns back to Jane and Thor - Jane is still gaping at his arm. He raises it and makes the fingers wave in her face.

“Do you want to ask some questions?” he suggests and she grins.

“Do I?!” 

They go to sit in the living room, Thor watching with amusement from the armchair as his girlfriend pokes and prods Bucky’s arm, asking him to make a fist and then an ‘ok’ sign and various other movements. She smiles in wonder at the movements of his arm, how the plates shift and the servos whir just beneath the surface, and asks him questions about how it feels. He shrugs.

“I can… sense it. But it doesn’t have any real receptors itself - I can feel when an object is in my hand, but I can’t tell if its hot or cold, that kind of thing,” he explains, frowning as he tries to pinpoint the exact sensations of his arm. Jane passes him a mug and he grips it. It could be scalding hot for all he knew, the only thing he can sense is its shape and weight, and he says so. Thor chuckles. 

“That beverage is freshly prepared, James. It is, indeed, very hot,” he says and Bucky nods. Jane smiles at him.

“Engineering isn’t really my thing but your arm… well, its amazing,” she breathes, looking at it reverently. “It could completely revolutionise how we make prosthetics. Who made it?” 

“This one? Stark,” Bucky says, tapping the plates on his forearm. The STARK insignia is embossed into the plates on the underside of his wrist, and he usually covers it with a watch - it’s not something he needs to see everyday. 

“Of course,” Jane says with a note of amusement. She then eyes him critically. “How’re you fitting in? Thor said you had a rough start,” 

“It’s been… difficult,” Bucky says, pulling his sleeve back down his arm. He doesn’t like to have it on show, if ever. Steve wonders in from the gym, Natasha by his side - they are both flushed pink and out of breath, which usually means they’ve been sparring. Bucky feels a tug on his gut - something akin to jealousy. He doesn’t like sitting around doing nothing at all.

While Natasha slips into the kitchen, Steve spots Jane and comes over to give her a kiss on the cheek - he asks where Darcy is and Jane tells him with a small, self-conscious smile. Steve looks at her fondly, and drifts off to get a bottle of water. Natasha reappears from the kitchen and settles herself down on the other side of Jane, greeting her with a smile. Though Jane looks friendly enough, Bucky notices how her body language changes - her hands are in her lap and her legs crossed. She looks uncomfortable - he makes a note of this for later on. 

Natasha leans over Jane to speak to Bucky, and her eyes glint conspiratorially. “Doc says you can come sparring with us tomorrow, if you like,” she says and Bucky can’t help the smile on his face. 

“Yes,” he breathes and then he flexes his arm involuntarily. A year ago, he could have killed any of them with this arm, and he could still do it now - the arm is still a weapon, just more refined now. Something must show on his face because she leans further forward and touches his arm. Jane is studying him critically as well. 

“You don’t have to,” Natasha says and he nods.

“I think I have to… think about it,” he says, pausing, and she nods understandingly. 

“Take your time,” she tells him. He nods, and turns back to Jane. She launches into an explanation of her recent work and Bucky lets it wash over him like white-noise while he thinks. 


	3. Deliverance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out.

The next day, Steve, Natasha and Clint are already in the gym, practising 2-on-1 sparring, when Bucky walks in with Dr Hummel beside him. They are talking in low voices, a tablet in the doctors hand and Bucky holding his metal arm close, almost fearfully.

“Hey,” Steve says, holding up a ’T’ with his hands to give everyone a break. He walks off the mats, leaving Clint lying in his wake, and greets Bucky with a clap to the shoulder. “Glad you came,” 

“We’re just here observing today, Captain,” Dr Hummel explains, and Steve nods, barely disguising the disappointment on his face. “Sgt Barnes felt it would be best if he saw what goes on down here first, before he joined in. May we?” he gestures at one of the benches pushed against the wall and Steve nods.

“Of course,” and he watches them sit before heading back onto the mat. Clint has rolled himself to his feet and he and Natasha are talking together, before Steve drops into a fighting stance. They both follow suit and then with his command, they lunge for him. Natasha tends to go for sensitive places, aiming to cripple - she’ll go first for his face, his neck or his crotch, while Clint will focus on joints, wanting to disable, and permanently. Natasha dodges out of the way when Steve goes to land a blow, arching gracefully away from him, and Clint dives into a roll when Steve aims a kick at his centre. 

They’re vicious and relentless but Steve is stronger and built to withstand before. He’s not bragging when he says ‘I could do this all day’, not anymore - he has more stamina than the both of them combined. Natasha tries to swing herself up onto his shoulders, her signature garrotting move, but he grabs her by the calf just in time and sends her crashing into the mat. In that time, Clint makes to swipe his legs out from under him, but only succeeds in making Steve’s knees buckle.

By the time they let up, they’re all panting and a nice bruise is forming on Clint’s upper arm. Natasha grins at him, her lips flushed blood red, and then she frowns, looking over his shoulder. Steve turns to look and feels his stomach drop.

Bucky has gone _white_ , like he’s been drained of blood, and his metal hand has been clenched so tightly on the bench that it’s caused the metal frame to dent. Dr Hummel is next to him, talking to him in a measured, but Bucky has this eerie thousand yard stare and both Natasha and Clint are tense within seconds. With a hand gesture they split, Clint darting away from the mats to the gym door, Natasha edging around Steve and making gestures at Dr Hummel. 

Steve approaches like one would approach a scared animal because that’s what Bucky is right now -stripped back to his base level, probably terrified at the changes he’s been through and his arm _must_ hurt despite his claims otherwise. Steve keeps his body language calm, relaxed, and maintains eye contact, even if it feels like Bucky is staring straight through him. He crouches low in front of Bucky, and holds his hands where they are easily visible. Bucky doesn’t flinch.

“Bucky?” Steve says softly. “It’s me, Buck, it’s Steve. Are you there?” he asks and that thousand-yard stare shifts and focuses and then look down at him.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, his voice trembling. Steve smiles, reaching up to hold onto Bucky’s arm, feeling the tensed muscles relax. 

“Yeah, Buck. It’s me,” and then he finds himself with a lapful of supersoldier. Bucky is heavy, a lot heavier than he was all those decades ago, but his harsh breathing is ringing in Steve’s ear. He is shivering in Steve’s hold, and Steve surprises himself by making soothing noises, running a hand over Bucky’s back. Dr Hummel is moved away, probably by Natasha, as Steve can see Clint out of the corner of his eye, standing nearby. Bucky gasps wet sobs into Steve’s shoulder, and Steve finds himself settling in for the long-haul.

Twenty minutes later, they haven’t moved, though Bucky has now gone silent. Steve is still making small sounds under his breath, but his grip has relaxed, so Bucky is more kneeling in front of him than sitting directly on his lap. Bucky’s head is down, his short hair mussed and his eyes are closed from what Steve can see, his breath puffing through parted lips. The gym doors open with barely a sound and Steve looks up to see Tony take a seat on the bench where Bucky and Dr Hummel had been sitting not too long ago. Tony waves a hand at him as if to say ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere’, and Steve nods slightly, before he feels Bucky pull away, his hands relaxing from where they were clenched in Steve’s t-shirt.

“Okay?” Steve asks quietly and Bucky nods. He doesn’t look up or around, but instead stares at the floor. “Do you want to go to your room?” Steve asks and Bucky nods, his jaw working but unable to say so. Steve helps him to his feet and then guides him to the elevator. JARVIS takes them up to Steve’s suite without a word and before too long, Steve is guiding Bucky into his room, sitting him on the bed. 

“Do you want some company?” he asks and Bucky shakes his head, fisting a hand in the sheets. Steve nods. “If you need me, ask JARVIS, okay?” he reminds him and then he leaves.

Back in the communal living room, Steve glances at the clock to realise it’s already early evening. Bruce is cooking in the kitchen and Tony has been roped into plate-duty, so he’s setting down cutlery when Steve walks up behind him and loops his arms around his waist, burying his face in the curve of Tony’s neck. Tony hums and continues as he was before, a super-soldier along for the ride. Eventually, when the last fork is in place, Tony turns in Steve’s embrace and wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, bringing him in for a hug.

“You did good, Top Gun,” he says quietly and Steve snorts a laugh.

“Top Gun’s about the air force. Shouldn’t you be calling Rhodey that?” he asks with a slightly teasing tone and Tony makes a face.

“I _would,_ if Rhodey would return any of my calls,” he says pathetically and then he grins, pulling Steve down for a kiss. Bruce makes a sound from the kitchen and Tony mumbles against Steve’s mouth about how this is _his_ tower, goddammit, he can do what he likes, but then a polite cough breaks them apart. Pepper Potts is standing by the fridge.

“Pep!” Tony crows, shuffling awkwardly out of Steve’s embrace. Canoodling with current boyfriend in front of ex-girlfriend and current CEO is awkward. Pepper sniffs disdainfully. “What can I help you with?” Tony asks with a wicked smile and Pepper turns to the tablet in his hands, delicate fingers skipping lightly over the surface.

“To begin with,” she asks, before putting the tablet on the island and pushing it into Tony’s hands. “You could tell me why you’re harbouring an internationally wanted fugitive,” 

“Oh,” Bruce says, with a hint of amusement. “Just another day in the office!”

**{#}**

Bucky wakes up with a scream. He doesn’t know where he is, there are restraints holding him down, his tongue is heavy in his mouth and it’s so cold, so so cold, it’s dark where am I? Steve _Steve_ **_Steve_** STEVE?! 

“ _Sgt Barnes. You are safe. It is 2014. You are in the Avengers Tower, New York,_ ” a calm accented voice breaks through the terror and Bucky gasps a breath, feeling like he’s broken the surface. “S _gt Barnes. You are safe,_ ” the voice repeats the earlier information another two or three times, before asking “ _Are you with us, Sgt?_ ” 

Bucky nods, and then finds his voice. “Yes,” he croaks out. He looks at the clock blinking on the window - it is just after midnight. “Where’s Steve?” he asks, throwing the bedsheets off. He had tangled himself in them in sleep, and that had been what had been stopping him from… he shakes his head, trying to clear the thoughts.

“ _Captain Rogers is with Ms Potts and Mr Stark in the living room. Also present are Dr Banner, Mr Odinson, Mr Barton and Ms Romanov. Sgt Wilson, Ms Foster and Ms Lewis are all sleeping,_ ” JARVIS says. Bucky feels his eyebrow raise - a group meeting at this time? 

“Thanks,” Bucky says quietly, standing up. He is just wearing loose sweatpants, and he feels hot, feverish, despite the cool night air that circulates the room. He makes his way out of Steve’s suite, walking quietly past Sam’s room so as not to wake him. He released the cabinet latch from the inside and pauses just outside of the living room to listen, but all he can hear is angry half-sentences.

“Irresponsible… board… stocks, Tony!” and then there is a furious overlap of voices. There is movement from the direction of the living room and Bucky briefly considers going back into Steve’s suite but then Clint is there, looking Bucky up and down with a concerned look on his face.

“They’re talking ‘bout me?” Bucky says, surprising himself by how very sad he sounds. Clint nods sharply, and then makes a gesture to a small corridor.

“I’m not needed here. Lets go watch a film?” he suggests and Bucky goes along with him. JARVIS lights their way and soon Clint leads him into a large room. There are plush loveseats staggered over several little insteps, and a large screen at the front of the room. There’s a small kitchen off to the side, and Clint moves to stand there, looking at Bucky expectantly. 

“Whadaya want?” he asks with a raised eyebrow and Bucky stumbles - he is still learning to make decisions, still learning to have autonomy and it isn’t easy. Clint rolls his eyes. “Right, well, we don’t have all night. I’m gonna make you something my Ma used to make me when I couldn’t sleep,” he says, opening the fridge and bringing out a few things. The fridge is as well-stocked as the one upstairs, and Bucky wonders how often this room is used.

“What are you making?” Bucky asks after a while. The cool in the room is making him shiver a little and Clint rolls his eyes at him before grabbed a blanket from one of the loveseats and flinging it at him - Bucky drapes it around his shoulders like a cape.

“Milk, honey, dash of whiskey,” Clint explains, putting the concoction in the microwave. Buckyblinks at him and he rolls his eyes. “It helps kids get to sleep. Figured it wouldn’t hurt,” he explains. When the microwave _ding_ s to let them know the drink is warmed up, Clint puts the mug into Bucky’s hands and ushers him into a seat. “JARVIS - queue up a Disney film. Nothing too heavy plot-wise,”

The opening strains of music play and Clint moves to sit on a nearby loveseat, but Bucky clears his throat. He looks pointedly at the empty space beside him and Clint rolls his eyes before throwing himself into it. They both pointed turn their attention to the screen and that’s that.

They are disturbed 4 hours and 2 Disney films later, when Steve knocks on the media room door. Clint nods as Bucky slips out of the room to talk to him. Steve is waiting for him in the hallway, his arms crossed over his chest. There are faint circles under his eyes and his hair is a mess, but he smiles warmly when he sees Bucky leave the media room, letting the door slip closed behind him.

“There you are - we were worried for a minute there,” he says and Bucky waves him off. 

“What’s happening?” he asks and Steve’s smile fades, his eyebrows drawing together.

“Your picture has been released to the press,” Steve tells him slowly. Bucky feels his heart jump in his chest, fear clamping down harshly. If the press know then HYDRA will find him and then they’ll - 

Before his thoughts can go any further, he feels a warm hand on the back of his neck, and it squeezes slightly. He tilts his head to look and Clint is behind him, his face set in a grim line.

“Don’t use him as a scapegoat,” he says without any pre-amble and Steve has the decency to look aghast.

“Of course I wouldn’t!” he says, and Clint nods, letting go of Bucky’s neck and slipping past them into the main communal areas, leaving Steve and Bucky on their own. There is tension between them that Bucky doesn’t remember from - before. “Pepper wants to hold a press conference. Deal with the rumours before they get out of hand. You don’t have to be there, of course, just… would you be okay if we answered questions about you?” Steve asks and Bucky stares at him, taking a moment to digest the information he’s being told.

“Would you lie about me?” he asks and Steve shakes his head.

“We won’t lie, Buck - but we’ll only reveal information you’re happy to be released. Tony can do it, he’s pretty good at all this media stuff, and JARVIS has already set up some social media accounts for you. He’s the ghost writer for all of ours, and he’s pretty good,” Steve says. Bucky eyes the ceiling sceptically, but nods. Steve relaxes infinitesimally, but Bucky notices - he still notices. “We’ll get Pepper to organise something for this afternoon, okay. Do you want to be there?” Steve asks and Bucky takes a moment before shaking his head. “That’s okay. It’ll probably be just me and Tony, but JARVIS can stream it for you, if you’d like?” 

Bucky agrees to watch it from afar, and then ducks back into the media room. JARVIS restarts the film and Bucky brings his knees to his chest and watches as Ariel gives up her family for the man she loves. It’s downright depressing.

**{#}**

“Welcome, ladies and gents,” Tony says from behind a table. There is a microphone propped in front of both him, and another one in front of Steve, and they both look calm and collected. Some fifty-odd stories up, Bucky isn’t so sure about himself. “Just a quick one today, we’re here to address the rumours that the Avengers are housing the Winter Soldier,” Tony says with a grin, and there is a sigh of _something_ from the collected press. Steve is leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed and to the casual observer it would appear as though he was relaxed, but Bucky can tell from the way his muscles flex that he is about to rip the throat out of the next idiot who tries to insult Bucky.

“Is it true?” a pretty blonde woman calls, and Tony pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Ms Everhart, lovely as always to see you,” Tony says, his voice dripping with disdain. He sighs and puts his hands on the table. “Yes, currently James Buchanan Barnes is residing on the upper floors of the Avengers tower-,” there is a clamouring from the audience, and Tony holds up a hand to silence them. “He has been seen to by the finest psychologists and medical personnel we can find. Bucky Barnes is no longer the Winter Solider,” he says firmly. Bucky wants to throw up a little bit.

“How can you be sure?” another woman asks and Tony leans back in his seat as Steve slides forward.

“I would know my best friend anywhere, ma’am. He’s Bucky now, not what they made him,” he says. A man stands up.

“Given the atrocities he committed, not least the attack on the Triskelion 8 months ago, do you not think he should be brought to justice?” he asks and Bucky feels a ripple of fear slide through him. 

“He was not himself. They had repeatedly wiped his brain and made him into a weapon. He’s been suffering through Post-Traumatic Stress, a well-documented disorder suffered by veterans and survivors across the world, and you want to haul him in front of people who would see him hung, drawn and quartered?” Steve says, the last sentence turning into a sneer. Tony discretely touches his arm and Steve sinks back into his seat.

“What Cap means to say is - as far as the Avengers are concerned, Bucky Barnes was not aware and not in control when he committed those acts. To charge him now would be a miscarriage of justice, because he was not the man responsible,” 

“Then who was?” Another man shouts. Bucky wants to cover his ears and not listen to the rest.

“HYDRA was,” Tony says with no small amount of finality. “Alexander Pierce was the leader in all this, and he was killed during the Triskelion battle. We have to rebuild now, that’s what we need to focus on - not tearing down an innocent man,” he states.“We’re not here to defend the actions of a man, a weapon. But what we’re telling you now is that man, the guy who killed those people, was not Bucky Barnes. And Bucky Barnes is safe with the Avengers, so if you want him, you have to go through us,” Tony says and a woman stands.

“Is that a threat, Mr Stark?” she says before sitting down again. Tony rolls his eyes and bears his teeth.

“Yes ma’am. If you, anyone, try to come for Bucky Barnes, you are going to have to get through the Avengers first. And considering he’s Cap’s best friend, you’ll have a hell of a time,” he sneers and someone else stands.

“To lighten the mood, wouldn’t you say you’re the Captain’s best friend, Mr Stark?” this guy asks and Bucky smirks into his knees. Tony opens his mouth to say something but then JARVIS cuts the feed.

“Hey!” Bucky calls but there is no answer. He frowns - system must’ve glitched. A second later, JARVIS speaks.

“ _Apologies, Sgt Barnes. The connection was severed between my feed downstairs and up here. The Captain and Sir are now finishing the conference - would you like to watch?_ ” JARVIS asks politely. Bucky waves his off.

“Nah - put the film back on,” he says and the screen flickers back to an animated scene. 

**{#}**

The next morning, a siren goes off. Bucky and Clint are watching another film in the media room, and JARVIS cuts the movie just as Woody was giving Buzz Lightyear some hard truths, and his voice comes in over the speakers, monotone and repetitive. “ _Avengers assemble. Avengers assemble._ ” Clint is on his feet before Bucky even has a chance to ask what that _means_ and he’s out the door, Bucky scrambling to follow behind him. 

He’s exhausted, Bucky, the tiredness wearing down on his bones, but he makes himself take in everything as it happens. Steve sprints past with a dazed but determined Sam in his wake, both of them shrugging on parts of uniform. Natasha is counting knifes serenely on a side-table and Tony is muttering furiously to himself as he speed-walks out onto the balcony - which moves beneath his feet and starts to _build_ armour on him. Bucky finds himself staring. 

Clint brushes past him a minute later, doing up some pants and with his top only half-pulled on, boots under his arm. His bow is slung over his body though, the quiver strapped in place despite the rumpled shirt, and his eyes are bright and alert, though he must be as tired as Bucky is. The alarm is still sounding, and then Steve comes back in, in full Captain America regalia.

It feels like Bucky has been dumped into a bath of ice. A stunned sort of feeling washes over him and he sinks gasping onto the arm of a sofa before he knows what he’s doing. Behind him, Bruce Banner appears, rubbing sleeping from his eyes, wearing simple but comfortable clothes. But Bucky’s eyes are stuck on Steve.

_The man on the bridge…_

_\- But I knew him…_

_My mission… my mission… mymissio-_

He snaps out of it when Steve approaches him. His metal arm clenches involuntarily but Steve doesn’t notice, or doesn’t comment. He bends slightly so he’s on a level with Bucky, not patronising, just equal.

“There’s an attack happening downtown. You can’t come with us, but if you want to watch, JARVIS can bring up Tony’s feed if you ask him. Stay here, stay safe - Jane and Darcy are in Thor’s rooms, Pepper will probably be along in a few minutes,” Steve explains as efficiently as he can and Bucky finds he can only nod along. Steve gives him a smile and then turns to the rest of the team. “Wheels up in 5,” he calls and thunder crackles outside. Bucky watches with a certain disconnect as when he looks outside and sees Thor floating in the middle of a thunderstorm, electricity crackling around his body. 

He’d like to think he’s seen stranger things, but… 

They leave, the Avengers on the quinjet, Thor and Tony following in the air. Bucky finds himself at a loss, the tower suddenly too big and too empty, and he lets himself slip back onto the sofa, pulling the blanket close around him.

He asks JARVIS to start playing Toy Story again - it picks up exactly where he left off, but in the corner is the live-feed from Tony’s helmet. If he focusses, he can pick up parts of the conversation, but focussing makes his vision tunnel and his head hurt and he tries instead to listen to Woody’s heartfelt speech about what it means to be a toy.

He finds that’s its too similar to other speeches he’s heard over the years, in Russian, German, English, about how as an asset, he is the fist of HYDRA. The justice-bringer. The scales on which every mans life is weighed - are you worthy? Do you deserve redemption? More often than not, the scales weighed on the other side and all these men were dispatched quickly.

He remembers putting a bullet through Natasha, watching her blood bloom across her skin and her parted lips as she gasped out a breath and the scientist she was guarding gasped out his last. 

He remembers until the sun crests over the tower and he is shivering slightly wrapped in the blanket, and then he remembers when the team trudge in, bloody and bruised. 

He is up on his feet in an instant, heart pounding. Sam is first, half-carrying Natasha who isn’t putting any weight on her left foot. Clint is behind them, nursing a nasty looking burn on his right forearm, and a gash across one cheek. Thor is behind them, Bruce holding onto one large arm, half-asleep and pale. Bucky finds himself pressing his lips tightly together as he waits for Steve to come in and yet there’s no sign of him. 

Maria Hill rushes by, muttering furious into a comm-unit and Bucky reaches out to stop her - she starts, and then turns to him, mouth parted to undoubtedly scold him.

“Where’s Steve?” he asks and there must be something in his tone of voice, his face, which makes her lips twist in sympathy and then she sighs.

“Steve’s fine, but Stark took a hit from a laser blast - it caused the suit to short-circuit, and he fell. He’s on the medical floor. Steve went with him,” she explains, but she barely finishes the second sentence before Bucky is running for the elevator, blanket flying behind him like a cape. JARVIS must know where he wants to go, because the elevator starts descending without him prompting, and soon he’s pushing past startled nurses to find Steve in the medical suites. 

He finds them, but pauses outside the door. The medical suite is much like the rest of the tower, walls made of frosted glass and chrome fixtures, but Bucky can see Steve and Tony through the glass, heads bent together. He taps on the glass before he enters, but even that wasn’t enough warning - when he enters, Steve jumps back from where he had been kissing Tony. 

Steve’s face flushes red and Tony just rolls his eyes. Bucky finds himself feeling awkward, and he brings the blanket tighter around him. 

“I… I didn’t… you didn’t come back and I-,” he chokes on his words and Steve’s expression turns to one of sympathy. He leaves Tony’s bedside and moves to Bucky, reaching out to grasp his shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” Steve reassures him. Bucky struggles to meet his eyes but he finds himself nodding anyway. “Thank you for coming to check, and I’m sorry I didn’t ask one of the others to tell you. I was… distracted,” he says, the pink tinge to his skin increasing slightly. Bucky drops his voice low, glancing over at Tony with a frown.

“He treating you right?” Bucky asks, because in the end that’s all that matters. Steve looks surprised for a moment, and then he smiles, and he looks over to Tony as well. The smile changes, deepens, becomes so honest it hurts to look at. 

“Yeah, he does,” Steve says with a gentle voice before it hardens teasingly. “Or he would, if he didn’t get himself shot out of the air by a laser!”

“Yeah yeah,” Tony waves a hand dismissively. He looks relaxed, almost too relaxed, and when he notices Bucky’s frown, he grins and waves the arm that is currently linked to an IV. “They’re giving me the good stuff Barnes!” he says and Steve rolls his eyes fondly.

“I’d better…” Bucky says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. Steve nods, but pulls him into a hug before Bucky can go anywhere. He stiffens, unused to casual touch, but then relaxes fractionally. 

“Thank you,” Steve says quietly, low enough Tony can’t hear them, and then he lets go. Bucky leaves, not looking back.

**{#}**

He finds his way back into the movie room, and flops down onto the loveseat he was previously inhabiting, pulling another blanket over him as well. He sighs and settles, letting the opening strains of music from whatever film was queued up next wash over him. He doesn’t notice when the door opens, and only jumps when Clint drops into the loveseat he stole the blanket from.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” he asks and Clint eyes him before smirking, the slice across his cheek covered with butterfly stitches.

“Could say the same to you,” he drawls and Bucky frowns at him. “Nah - fights get me wired, I won’t be able to sleep for a few hours yet,” he explains, kicking off his boots and sprawling across the cushions, plumping one underneath his head. 

“What about everyone else?” Bucky asks, eyeing the burn that’s on display. Clint has obviously showered, and the burn shines slick with an ointment or cream he’s smeared on it, but he doesn’t look too worse for wear.

“Probably passed out, or eating. Thor tends to get sulky if we don’t ‘feast after glorious battle’,” Clint says, imitating Thor’s loud booming voice, and Bucky finds himself stifling a laugh. Clint eyes him for a moment and then shifts. “So - you found out about Cap and Stark then?” he says conversationally and Bucky twists the fabric of the blanket around his fingers. He nods, though doesn’t trust his voice. “How do you feel about it?” he asks, and Bucky feels himself snapping.

“What are you, my goddamn therapist?” he snarls and Clint raises his hands in surrender. Bucky flops back onto the cushions with a huff. “Steve says he’s treatin’ him right and that’s all that matters. Makes no difference to me who Steve takes up with, as long as he’s treated well,” he explains. Clint snorts.

“Stark’s as reckless as Cap, maybe even worse,” he says and when Bucky opens his mouth to protest, he shoots him a glance. “BUT - and there is a but - Stark’d put his life on the line before he’d let Cap do the same. He’d take a bullet, laser blast, giant slime monsters - don’t laugh, we’ve seen ‘em - before he’d let any harm come to Steve,” he explains. His voice is gentle, almost wistfully, and Bucky cranes his neck to look at him. “They… well, they have whatever they have and it isn’t bad for the team, but the awkward mid-kitchen make-out sessions and subsequent screaming matches are weird,” 

Bucky snorts at the idea of Stark and Steve screaming at each other from across the living room, but then he thinks it might be very accurate. They’re probably as stubborn as each other. 

Clint eyes him contemplatively and then settles back into the loveseat. It’s minutes later when Bucky finally lets himself fall asleep.

**{#}**

He wakes up warm and well-rested. A movie is still playing on the screen, and Bucky finds that the blanket is pulled up to just under his eyes, so he can feel his eyelashes brush the fabric. He pushes himself up and looks around.

The Avengers are scattered around him on the other seats. Thor is sprawled across one at the front, Jane tucked against his side, and they’re both watching the film with half-lidded eyes. Natasha and Darcy share another seat, a blanket draped over their legs, and Darcy is munching on popcorn, Natasha smiling at her indulgently. Bruce is on the back tier, a tablet in his hands – his eyes are flicking over the information on there rapidly.

Steve is back, and he’s dozing on the tier above Bucky, or at least it looks like he is from where Bucky is sitting. He shifts a little and then settles and Bucky looks around. Clint is awake, his eyes trained on the screen, watching the film. He glances at Bucky, waves a little on noticing he’s awake, and then goes back to the film.

Feeling another wave of tiredness wash over him, Bucky settles back down on to the sofa and goes back to sleep.

 

 


	4. One Step Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something changes and conversations are had.
> 
> Anything in is sign language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this is unbeta'd and any mistakes are mine and mine alone.
> 
> Many thanks for your continued support (and patience)! This is the end of the chapters I have pre-written prior to when I started posting, but the next chapter is nearing completion, so... fingers crossed!

The next week, another attack happens and then Avengers are called out to help. Again, Bucky isn’t allowed to join in, but Steve discreetly hands him a comm unit and he listens as he does laps around the gym. They had agreed he could start working out, even if he’s not allowed to join in the sparring yet, and it feels good to be moving again.

“ _Hawkeye, what do you see?”_ that’s Steve talking, and Bucky smiles to himself about the subtle change in voice from Steve Rogers to Captain America.

“ _A whole load of robots, Cap, why’d you ask?_ ” Clint sneers down the line and there’s a blast in the background, which causes him to swear loudly and colourfully. _“Widow, was that you?!”_ he asks and Natasha’s smirk practically flows down the line.

“ _Might’ve been_ ,” she says and then Thor cuts in.

_“I fear these machines are built for a greater purpose! Captain, look-!_ ” and again there’s a blast, but this one is loud enough to cause Bucky’s ears to ring. He stops in his tracks and stands, waiting for someone, anyone, to say something.

“ _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, that thing hit Thor!_ ” Clint exclaims down the line and there is a second of silence.

“ _Thor, do you hear me? Thor, respond!_ ” Steve says and there’s still a horrible silence.

“ _He’s not moving, Cap. Oh fuck, fuckity fuck fuck,_ ” Clint is chanting now and there are noises that suggest he’s moving. 

“ _Hawkeye, maintain your position!_ ” Steve says and Bucky finds himself running for the weapons room, which is just off the gym. JARVIS accepts his passcode immediately, which has never happened before, and Bucky scans the array of weapons before him while Steve’s commands form background noise. There! A Stark-modified Savage 110 BA. Bucky grabs it before he realises what he’s thinking, and runs for the elevator.

The attack isn’t happening too far away - it’s mostly centralised around Grand Central, and Bucky had taken refuge in the gym because he didn’t like to see his… friends? Family?… get hurled around without being able to help. JARVIS takes him to the main floor and Bucky strides straight onto the balcony, dropping low. He props the rifle on the edge of the balcony, and waits.

Two robots zip by chasing Iron Man, who swerves to avoid them. Bucky watches their movements for a second, gauges their speed and then lowers his vision to the telescopic sight. And then, he breathes.

The moment of pulling the trigger comes like second nature to him. He breathes in, and on the release, he pulls the trigger. The rifle jolts, barely, in his grip and one of the robots goes flailing to the ground, a stream of sparking smoke behind it. Iron Man lets out a ‘Whoop!’ over the comm system.

“ _Who was that?!_ ” Tony shouts, and Bucky stays silent, his eyes trained on the next robot. He pulls the trigger and it spirals out of the sky with a whine. 

“ _Iron Man, get an eye on who that is!_ ” Cap shouts, and there’s a loud _clang_ \- Bucky can see a robot ricochet off the shield, and go flying into a nearby building. There’s the hiss of repulsers and then Tony, bedecked in his armour, is on eye level with Bucky.

“ _Uh, Cap, it’s… well, its_ him _,”_ Tony says into the comm and there is a round of colourful language from Steve. “ _Cap, you kissed your Ma with that mouth?_ ” Tony teases and there’s another hiss from Steve.

“ _I kiss_ you _with that mouth, dammit. Get him inside, now!_ ” Cap says peevishly into the comm. Bucky only narrows his eyes and shakes his head at Iron Man, who shrugs and zips off. 

“ _He didn’t budge Cap, and I don’t really want to make him move. Besides, he’s a pretty sharp shooter. Giving Hawkeye a run for his money!_ ” 

“ _Hey!_ ” Clint shouts from the melee below. Bucky smiles to himself and settles in for the long haul.

** {#} **

He had been pretty safe on the balcony, up until the robots learned of his position, at which point he then had to fling himself onto the inlet below. The metal arm took the brunt of the fall, which is probably why it’s currently sparking at him angrily. He’s sat in Stark’s workshop, with Stark poking at the arm despite the cut on his cheek which is steadily oozing blood, and Steve who is watching them both with narrowed eyed from the doorway. 

“You should both be in medical,” Steve says for the fifth time and Bucky and Tony glare at him. The doctors and nurses are having a hard enough time dealing with Thor, who, it turns out, does not like hospitals. Tony and Bucky aren’t severely injured enough to go down there, not when all hands are needed to keep the God of Thunder from unleashing a storm upon the entire floor in protest. Steve holds up his hands in surrender, but Bucky is pretty sure he can see his jaw clenching from here. Tony jostles Bucky’s arm and readjusts its position, before removing some of the plating, giving Bucky his first real look at the internal workings of his arm.

It’s a lot of wires with some blinking lights, but he can see where a laser shot has singed some of the wires. Tony huffs and gets to work, letting Bucky zone out while the arm is tinkered with.

It felt good, to be of use again. He hasn’t fought properly since, well, since the helicarriers, even though he went HYDRA-base and HDYRA-base and systematically wiped out all the people in them. He burned the one in Illinois to the ground, and the one in New York, an old subway stop which has been out of use since before anyone can remember, is now buried under rubble. He killed indiscriminately and there are probably hundreds of bodies in his wake, his ledger stained with red. 

After he collapsed the subway base, he remembers wandering the streets of New York in its early morning light. The smell was familiar, if not the sights, and he took a moment to relish in the freedom. But then he realised things he hadn’t before- how hungry he was, how his hands shook, how light-headed he felt. And then, without the HYDRA-bases to destroy, he knew what he had to do.

Hand himself in. 

It had been easy to find the Stark building - just follow the giant glaring ‘Avengers’ sign on top of the tower. And then carefully introduce himself to the receptionist, and hope no one shot him on sight. But even then, he wasn’t Bucky Barnes. He was still the Soldier.

He just knew who the enemy was now. 

Next to him Tony curses, and Bucky watches with interest as one of the wires hisses at the older man. He sinks back into his thoughts.

** {#} **

A week later, Tony declares that they need to restart Movie Night, because what with the appearance of Cap’s Gulag-Buddy (Steve glares at him for that), it had fallen by the wayside. So, on Thursday evening, they all pile into the media room.  

As before, Natasha and Darcy take one of the front loveseats, a blanket draped over their legs and a bowl of popcorn between them. Thor and Jane take the other, even when Clint booed them and throws popcorn at Thor’s head. On the next tier, Steve and Tony take one loveseat, and on the tier behind, Sam sits next to Pepper with a shy smile and Rhodey slouches next to Bruce, both of them will matching expressions of ‘I will not be involved in this madness’ as they flick through the StarkPads on their knees.

That leaves the other loveseat on the middle tier. Bucky slumps into one side, and Clint takes the other. They both try to make themselves comfortable while staying within their own self-imposed boundaries, and eventually they settle with their arms crossed over their chests. JARVIS starts the film, and the light dim.

It’s a lighthearted film about a boy wizard going to a magical school and even when Darcy starts mockingly saying ‘Yer a wizard ‘arry!’ repeatedly, Bucky can’t help the small smile that flits over his lips. It’s fleeting but it was there, even when Natasha hushes Darcy loudly with light in her eyes. Bucky eyes them - that’s interesting. 

He sinks further back into the plush cushions, disregarding Vernon Dursley’s spittle-soaked proclamations about freaks, and closes his eyes. It’s warm and comfortable and if he’s not careful, he’s going to…

** {#} **

When the film ends and the lights come up, Steve gives Tony a little shake. The other man had slipped into sleep a little over halfway into the film, and Steve had let him sleep because Tony had been on an engineering binge this week and needed the rest. All around them, the Avengers are rousing each other. Jane is out for the count and so Thor picks her up easily, and behind them Bruce is snoring softly, despite Rhodey’s elbow jabbing into his ribs. 

Natasha has her head bent close to Darcy’s, whispering in her ear, and Sam left with Pepper already, sneaking out before the big showdown between Harry and his teacher. Steve will plead ignorance if Tony asks him tomorrow, but for now he’s happy to keep their secret.

“Come on,” Steve murmurs to Tony, who makes a soft sleepy sound. Steve stands and pulls Tony up against him, resisting the urge to pick him up bridal-style and just carry him to bed. Tony snuffles and presses his face to Steve’s shoulder and the super soldier smiles indulgently to himself. Tony is cute when he’s half-asleep, even if he’d deny it under pain of death. “Time for bed, genius,” Steve coaxes and Tony wakes up enough to give Steve a baleful look. Steve smiles and presses a kiss to Tony’s temple.

He helps the sleepy engineer stand up and makes to leave the room when he notices that the only pair who haven’t moved yet are Clint and Bucky. He looks over and almost chokes on air when he realises what he’s seeing.

During the film, Bucky has fallen asleep and shifted over so he’s curled on the sofa, his head and half his chest resting over Clint’s legs. The archer looks a bit dumbstruck but he’s petting Bucky’s hair repetitively, and Steve smiles to himself.

“You going to bed, Clint?” Steve asks softly and Clint winces at the sound, stilling when Bucky shifts and presses his face into Clint’s thigh. When Bucky settles again, Clint seems to be able to breathe again. He raises his hands and carefully signs to Steve.

< _I’ll stay here a bit longer. Can JARVIS queue up some Scrubs?_ > his hands move carefully and Steve voices the request. The opening scene plays and Clint gives him the sign for thank you, the tips of his fingers touching his chin briefly. 

Steve leads Tony to bed with a small smile on his lips.

** {#} **

Bucky wakes up halfway through the night with a small snort, and he sits up, looking around the darkened room. It’s empty, with a sitcom playing on muted sound but with subtitles, except for Clint, who is fast asleep against the side of the chair. Bucky’s eyebrows fly up, but then Clint hums in his sleep and shifts, his eyes blinking open. Bucky is, all of a sudden, aware of how close they’re sitting together, and inches back. Clint yawns and stretches, his t-shirt riding up to reveal the toned plane of his stomach, and Bucky moves back further.

“Morning,” Clint murmurs, and Bucky looks around - the time flashes up in a corner of the screen. 5:43am. Technically, it is morning. “Sleep okay?” Clint asks, rubbing his eyes and Bucky opens his mouth to respond but Clint lurches into a sitting position. “Wait, don’t answer yet. Where are my aids?” he says, more to himself than Bucky. After a second or two, Clint lets out a loud ‘aha!’ and plucks two small objects from the carpet by his feet. He turns them both in his fingers, and then pushes them into his ears. He winces and then looks back at Bucky with a small smile. “Right, how’d you sleep?” he says. Bucky still gapes at him.

“What’re those?” he asks and Clint blinks blankly before realisation sinks in. 

“Oh! Hearing aids,” Clint explains with a hand wave. “I got caught in an explosion about 5 years ago and lost about 70% hearing in both my ears. I can only really hear with these in, now,” he says casually, and Bucky awkwardly plucks at the blanket which is still draped across his lap. Clint just huffs at him and then rolls himself to his feet, reaching upwards to stretch. Bucky tries to ignore how his trousers sit low on his hips, and instead rises to his feet as well.

“I slept fine,” Bucky says after a long pause. Clint turns to face him with a small frown. “No nightmares. No… blood. I slept… good,” Bucky continues awkwardly and Clint smiles.

“Great!” he says with sincerity and Bucky feels a hint of relief in his veins. He looks around them and nods, mainly to himself. “Steve’ll be up on his run already - wanna go make pancakes for when he gets back?” Clint suggests and Bucky nods before he can stop himself. They amble their way slowly to the kitchen, Clint insisting Bucky drop the blanket he’s draped over himself in the living room before they go any further, which Bucky does grudgingly. 

He helps Clint mix the batter and then steps aside while Clint expertly pours it into an already hot pan. The liquid hisses gently as it hits the metal and Bucky gets an image of a flash of something hitting metal and hissing in the same way. His hand tightens involuntarily on the counter and he sinks to the floor without a sound.

“Bucky!” he hears Clint say, but its like hearing underwater - its muffled and far away and he can’t quite reach the surface just yet. There’s something that sounds like curse and then two arms are pulling his backwards. He struggles for a moment, pushing away and then two legs wind over his own and pin them down. He can’t struggle anymore.

He can hear soft murmurings in his ear, even as the sound of his own teeth grinding drowns it out. He becomes aware of a chest behind his back, deep, even breaths pushing it out and then drawing it back in and then he’s away of the stubble of an unshaved beard scratching against his neck and then he surfaces. He breathes.

Clint is behind him, arms wound tightly across his chest and legs holding his own down, and he’s muttering nonsense in Clint’s ear as an attempt to soothe him. He is panting, even though he hasn’t moved an inch and he can smell the pancake burning on the stove and its just… too much.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps and Clint jerks a little, as if he wasn’t expecting that, but then he laughs.

“What, you think you’re the first pancake related meltdown we’ve had? Nah,” he jokes, not unwinding his arms but relaxing them a little. One of his hands starts rubbing soothing circles idly on Bucky’s chest and he focuses on that feeling. Of being touched by another human being, of being cared for. 

Eventually, Clint unfurls himself from around Bucky and stands up, reaching down to pull the other man to his feet. Bucky goes up easily, but finds himself reluctant to let go of Clint’s hand, pulling away a second too late. If Clint notices, he doesn’t say anything, just groans at the pan on the side - he lifts it to show the blackened mess of a former pancake sitting at the bottom. Bucky winces, and Clint dumps the pan in the sink.

“JARVIS?” Clint calls and one of the sensor lights blinks on - Bucky had never noticed them before.

“ _Mr Barton?_ ” JARVIS asks, his voice soothing after the recent episode.

“Does anywhere nearby deliver breakfast? Pancakes, waffles, that kind of thing?” Clint asks and there is a pause while JARVIS obviously searches.

“ _There is a cafe a block away that prepares breakfasts from 6am. Shall I contact them to enquire?_ ” JARVIS asks and Clint nods, before reeling off an order - Bucky realises after a moment that Clint has recited the typical breakfast of everyone in the tower, right down to Darcy’s low-fat gluten-free muesli without raisins. JARVIS tells Clint that he will contact the cafe and see if they would be willing to deliver, and then goes silent. The sensor light goes off.

“What was that?” Bucky asks, pointing at where the light was on, next to a modern atrocity that Tony said was a chandelier. Clint follows his gaze and nods in realisation.

“It comes on whenever JARVIS is interacting with me. If I don’t have my hearing aids in, writing will appear on the nearest surface - like subtitles?” Clint explains and Bucky nods, interested. “Stark designed it when I told him about my hearing problems - he likes to be helpful,” Clint’s voice drops into a whisper, conspiratorially low. Bucky smiles. 

“Doesn’t like people to know he has a bleeding heart?” Bucky suggests and Clint grins.

“More like he has a heart to begin with. I don’t know how much you know about him, but Stark used to be one of the biggest weapons manufacturers in the world. Made billions from it. Then, after a weapons demonstration, he got kidnapped by a terrorist group and, well, that’s how he became Iron Man. Change of- well, uh, heart, I guess,” Clint says, shrugging. He gets two glasses out of a nearby cupboard and goes to pour them both orange juice. Bucky heads out on to the balcony with his glass while Clint puts the juice away, and then they both sit outside to watch the sun creep up over the city. 

“Must’ve changed a lot since your time,” Clint says conversationally, his knees drawn up to his chest next to Bucky. The other man studies the scene and shakes his head.

“I don’t remember all that much,” he admits, and Clint raises an eyebrow at him. Bucky makes a vague gesture. “Steve seems to think that I remember more than I do. And I don’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. I- I _am_ Bucky. I know that. But I’m a different Bucky - I’m not the one who fell from the train,” he says, swirling the juice around the glass idly. “I fell from a goddamn train when I was 24-years-old,” he says bitterly. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, and a feeling grips his chest, squeezes tight. It’s the first time he has said that he should be dead. He lets out a bitter laugh. 

“Bucky,” Clint says gently, reaching over to lay a hand on his forearm, but Bucky knocks his hand away.

“ _No_ ,” he says a tad harshly. “Let me have this,” he whispers, mostly to himself.

“Peggy said that once,” came another voice. Both Bucky and Clint whip around to see Steve leaning against the doors onto the patio, a bottle of water in his hands. He strolls casually onto the balcony, and takes a seat on the floor opposite Bucky. He cracks the seal and gulps down half the bottle without anyone saying anything further, and Bucky stares at him. Steve wipes his mouth on the back of his hand before continuing. “She said ‘Give Barnes the dignity of his choice’, or something like that - it was so long ago,” Steve says, tilting his head back to let the sun brush across his face.

Bucky knows he’s lying. Steve went down in ’44, and woke up in ’11. To Steve, it’s only been 3 years, but for the rest of the world, it’s been over 70. They should be old men now, if not dead, having lived full lives with wives and children and grand babies and old joints and old bones. They should not be in a time where they’re on the younger side of this team, but with decades marked like scratches on the wall of time across their souls. 

Clint excuses himself quietly, patting Bucky on the thigh and then disappearing inside. Steve takes his place and sighs heavily.

“Even when you were beating my ass in Washington, there was a part of me that was.. _overjoyed_ you were there. You were alive! It was like all my sins had been absolved,” he tells Bucky, his blue eyes clear and honest. Bucky finds himself dumb, unable to speak. Steve finishes the bottle of water with a gulp and crunches the plastic into a ball. He smiles at Bucky’s look of astonishment. “You never got used to it. You were too used to me being… like I was. First time I clapped you on the shoulder, you nearly went flying from the shock of it, let alone my strength. You… well, you didn’t have time,” he trails off sadly and Bucky opens his mouth to speak, but finds that he can only say one thing.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and Steve looks up at him, eyebrows drawn together.

“What for?” Steve says and Bucky swallows.

“For… leaving, I guess,” he admits and Steve shakes his head.

“Buck-,”

“No, listen,” he says, “Would you have put that plane down if I had stuck around?” he asks and Steve makes a face but after a moment shakes his head.

“I would’ve tried to find a way out. But, after you… God, Buck, I was so _tired_ ,” he murmurs, and Bucky chews on his bottom lip for a moment.

“Then I’m sorry. For… taking away your time, I guess. You could’ve had a long life with Agent Carter, beautiful kids, doting grandkids. I’m sorry I took that away from you,” 

Steve looks at Bucky and opens his mouth to reply, but then looks up over his head and a soft smile spreads across his face. 

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have _him_ ,” he says, pointing. Bucky turns and huffs a laugh. Tony is awake, barely, propped up against a counter and staring at the coffee maker like it holds the secrets of the universe. His hair is a mess, and the t-shirt he’s wearing is obviously Steve’s, far too big for him and loose on the shoulders. He spots them looking and gives a vague wave, his expression dazed, before going back to staring at the coffee maker. Bucky schools his face and turns back to Steve with a mock-incredulous look.

“Really?” he asks, deadpan and Steve grins, and laughs. 

“Yeah,” he replies, clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

** {#} **

Something shifts after that. Maybe its because Bucky accepts the hand he’s been dealt, or maybe it’s because he had that talk with Clint and Steve, but he finds himself relaxing more, a tension he wasn’t aware existing easing out of his bones. 

He watches with delight when the Avengers announce their upcoming annual Hallowe’en party. Apparently last year Tony had decided it was something they were going to start doing, and this year they’re doing it again. They are all trying to decide whether to do group costumes, and while Bruce is pushing for something child-friendly like the Scooby-Doo gang, or Gravity Falls, Tony is shouting from the roof-tops about how the Avengers are going to be dressing like the characters from Rocky Horror. When Bucky queries what this is, Tony is aghast and demands that everyone meet in the media room that night to _learn._  

He turns up with Sam at just after 8pm, and they both find themselves frozen at the door into the media room. It is _covered_ in glitter, and in front of each seat are crates full of things - a small water pistol, a newspaper, some toilet roll, a torch, noisemakers, rubber gloves…. there is even a slice of toast. And to top it all off, Tony greets them dressed in a corset, very tight shorts, fishnets stockings and a pearl necklace. He grins at them, blood red lipstick painting his lips, and his fake eyelashes fluttering. Bucky feels like something just spontaneously combusted internally.

“Welcome,” Tony purrs, stepping back to let them in. Sam gapes and Bucky stays still, until Steve appears behind him… wearing gold lamé shorts.

“Oh, I did not sign up for this,” Sam says to himself and Bucky nods, agreeing. Steve rolls his eyes and grabs both their arms, pulling them in. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” he says, jamming party hats onto their heads. Natasha, Bruce and Rhodey are already in the room - Bruce and Rhodey look long-suffering, Natasha looks downright murderous, up until Darcy bounds in wearing a pair of very tight high-waisted sequinned shorts and a bright yellow corset that barely restrains her breasts. Natasha perks up at that. 

“Start the moovie!” Darcy crows, flopping down in the loveseat at the front next to Natasha - the corset creaks dangerously. Jane and Thor follow in a more sedate pace, though Jane is wearing nothing more than her bra and a slip, and Thor is in a pair of white briefs and some owlish glasses. Bucky doesn’t know where to look.

“Lord Stark informed us that it was a great tradition in Midgard to don the attire of the characters depicted in this tale,” Thor explains while Bucky stares at the ceiling. He finds his usual seat on the second tier and sits down, already hauling the blanket over himself when Clint enters.

His outfit is nowhere near as risqué as the others, dressed in what looks like a ragged old suit with leather on the elbows of the jacket. Its simple, nothing fancy, and yet the sight of it makes Bucky feel… tight, all over. He can’t quite pinpoint what the emotion he’s experiencing is, but it makes him train his eyes on Clint as he grins at his colleagues and then slumps down next to Bucky.

“I think this has become a habit,” he says jokingly, a grin playing on his lips and Bucky smiles back awkwardly. And then he frowns.

“What has?” he asks, and Clint gestures between them, which makes something in Bucky freeze in fear for a second before Clint goes on to explain.

“Sharing a seat,” he tells Bucky, and the other man relaxes, nodding slightly. Pepper flits in at the last second, kicking off her high heels before sinking into the seat next to Sam with a smile. Popcorn and drinks are passed around by Steve, who Bucky cannot look at, and then Tony goes to stand at the front, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen… and Clint,” he adds, causing Clint to boo loudly and throw popcorn at him - it scatters instead over Darcy and Natasha, who both glare at him. “Welcome to the first annual Avengers Rocky Horror Picture Show! For the _virgins_ among us, there are screen prompts which will tell you when to use the stuff in the crates. Let’s get this show on the road!” he says, throwing up two peace-signs and strutting to the loveseat next to Bucky and Clint’s, flopping into the empty space and slinging his legs over Steve’s. Steve pats his thigh encouragingly, and then JARVIS dims the lights and the show begins.

What follows is the most hectic movie experience of Bucky’s life. He throws confetti and holds an newspaper over his head while others squirt water into the air, making it rain. He holds a glow stick up for no reason at all and sways, and every time Dr Frank-N-Furter snaps his gloves, Bucky does the same, causing a faint sting in his right wrist which doesn’t fade. Clint hauls him to his feet to do the Pelvic Thrust, which Steve shakes his head at, and Tony mimes along to Sweet Transvestite perfectly, causing Sam, Rhodey and Clint to wolf-whistle him loudly. 

It’s probably the best fun he’s had for a while, and by the time it’s over, he’s exhausted but elated. Tony dismisses their concerns about all the… junk thrown across the room, but he waves it off and tells them he’s paid the maid service extra for their clean-up tomorrow, but even so, Bucky and Steve stick around to make sure most things are put back in the crates, and that the crates are piled in a corner out of the way.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Steve asks, dusting off his hands and Bucky nods. The metal arm glints in the dim light, but he’s taken to wearing t-shirts around the tower now, which he supposes is a good sign.

“Yeah… It was bizarre, but - good,” he says with a firm nod and Steve grins. 

“Great. Well, thanks for your help in clearing up - go get some rest, we’ve got the party tomorrow night,” Steve tells him and Bucky falters.

“A-am I supposed to come?” he says, hearing his own voice quiver. He’s not been around anyone but the Avengers, their assorted adoptees, and Dr Hummel for weeks, and he isn’t sure how he’ll react to crowds. Steve looks pained but gives him a small smile. 

“If you want, Buck. You can stay up here and watch films, if you’d rather,” he says reassuringly, but Bucky isn’t so convinced. He remains unconvinced while he brushes his teeth and gets into bed - remains unconvinced through half-reading his book, and then giving up and turning off the light. Remains unconvinced up until he hears a soft knock on the door, and he sits up in bed, curious.

“Yeah?” he calls softly - Sam is around, even if Steve is in Tony’s suite, and he doesn’t want to be too loud. The door opens a crack and Clint pokes his head around, his face pale.

“I didn’t wake you up?” he asks softly and Bucky shakes his head, gesturing for Clint to come in. He flicks on the light to watch the archer enter. Clint has a pillow under his arm and is wearing loose pants and a t-shirt, and yet every muscle in Clint’s body is fraught with tension. Clint shifts awkwardly until Bucky rolls his eyes and looks pointedly at the end of his bed, and the other man takes the hint, dropping down on the corner and bringing his knees up to his chest, his pillow held close. He looks very young. 

“You okay?’ Bucky asks, his voice low. Clint starts to nod and then shakes his head, looking guilty. “Wanna talk?” Bucky suggests awkwardly and Clint sighs, dropping his legs and sitting indian-style, running a hand through his hair.

“Did the others ever tell you what happened to me?” he asks and Bucky shakes his head. Everything he knows about the Avengers has been told to him by the person it relates to - otherwise he’d think Steve was pulling his leg when he was told about Thor’s origins. Clint chews his lip for a second and then screws his eyes closed, breathing out harshly. “When the battle for New York happened, I was… incapacitated. Possessed, I guess, by the bad guy, Thor’s brother Loki,” he says and Bucky nods encouragingly. “I don’t remember… much, really. Bits and pieces. Psychologists say that was when I ‘surfaced’ - when I could see, even if I couldn’t control. And then, I… Phil,” he chokes, and tears well in his eyes. Bucky makes an abortive motion to reach for him, but Clint waves him off.

“We thought Phil was dead,” he says brokenly. “And they didn’t tell me, until after. I asked, hey, where’s Coulson, and everyone kept tight-lipped about it. It was just before debrief, Maria Hill came to get me and pulled me aside and… told me. And I flipped out - pretty much trashed the room. Maria got out of the way before I hurt her, but I was _furious_. With myself, with Loki, and i felt so _violated_ , y’know?” and Bucky knows because yes, of course he knows, that’s been his life for the last 70 years. But he doesn’t voice that - it’s not what Clint needs to hear. 

“Anyway,” Clint shakes his head, banishing his demons for now. “I got help, therapy. And we find out nearly two years later that Coulson’s been alive this whole time, running some secret ops meant to catalogue superheroes, and he ends up taking down some of HYDRA and the first thing I did when I saw him again? Punched him,” Clint says, deadpan and Bucky smiles a little, the corners of his mouth twitching. Clint notices him and gives him a weak half-smile back. “Nailed him right in the nose. Broke it, I think. And I was still so mad at him, for leaving us, for dying on me. And I still dream about it - dream about seeing his body on the table in the mortuary, dream of the things I did while I wasn’t in control… And I have nightmares, hence,” and then he raises the pillow. He sighs again. “I, well, I normally go to Natasha. But she has _company_ , and I’m not asking Stark, or Thor, and Steve’s a good guy but-,”

“He’d worry too much,” Bucky says and Clint nods, relieved. Bucky shrugs, and pats the space next to him. “Crawl in. I steal the covers though, best be warned,” he tells Clint as the archer crawls over, pushing the spare pillows that had been there onto the floor. He shrugs and slips under the duvet.

“You’ll have to fight me for them, then,” he says and Bucky huffs a laugh, before clicking off the lights. It’s dark and he can feel himself slipping off when he hears Clint whisper ‘thanks’ - but sleep drags him down before he can reply.


	5. Fight or Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallowe'en arrives at Avengers tower, and brings with it creatures that go 'bump' in the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, all, for your patience and support!
> 
> Again, this is unbeta'd and any/all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> I also realised while writing this that I really struggle with action scenes...

The next morning, preparations are underway for the Hallowe’en party. It’s taking place over 3 levels, including a haunted house and ghost tour which Tony hired. There are people in and out of the building all day, and some of the Avengers are called into doing things - mostly Steve and Thor helping with the heavy lifting. Bucky stays out the way, finding a good book and curling up on the sofa in the main room, watching as someone occasionally bustles by. 

It’s only when the light outside begins to dim that Bucky realises it’s gone quiet. Suspiciously so. He puts his book down, having only been half paying attention anyway, and looks around. There is no one in the kitchen, or on the balcony, or in the gym. He follows the sound of music and finds himself kneeling by the entrance to Clint’s suite - he doesn’t go in, instead retreating back to his place on the sofa. Natasha is the first to return from wherever she disappeared to - and she’s wearing the most hideous sweater Bucky has ever seen.

She’s also wearing a long brown wig with a pink headband, a skirt and black pumps over white socks. She grins at him, flashing metal, and turns on the spot.

“What do you think?” she asks and Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“Did you regress? Into a teenager? An awkward one?” he asks haltingly and she gives a little huff, which is hysterical laughter for Natasha. 

“No, I’m Mabel,” she says and he can see it on the sweater now, in big pink letters. At his blank look she rolls her eyes. “From Gravity Falls? Cartoon series? Thor loves it…?” at his continued blank look, she waves a hand at him. “Never mind,” she says, darting into the kitchen just as Thor and Jane come out. Thor is dressed plainly, in knee-length cargo pants and a dark teal t-shirt - his hair is scraped back in a ponytail and pushed under a khaki baseball cap. Jane is wearing slim-fit jeans, boots and a checkered shirt, her hair now a vibrant red under a large warm-looking hat. Bucky shakes his head. 

“James! Will you not be joining the festivities this eve?” Thor booms at him and Bucky raises his book in explanation.

“I’m okay here,” he says, not even convincing himself, and Jane looks at him with a great deal of sympathy. He looks away first. Bruce comes in next, wearing a suit that at once point would’ve looked very nice and now looks a little worn, thick-rimmed glasses and a fez. He hasn’t shaved today, a little grey shadow on his jawline, but he smiles warmly at everyone.

“Are you guys all from the same thing?” Bucky asks, and Bruce smiles.

“Yes - a cartoon, called Grav-,”

“Gravity Falls!” Thor interrupts excitedly. “It is the continuing saga of the twins, Mabel and Dipper of Pines, who discover legends amidst the woods of the town they are visiting,” he says in a rush and Jane pats his arm soothingly. Bucky looks alarmed. 

“Well, I’ve got nothing to do this evening, so I might ask JARVIS to put some on for me, okay, big guy?” he says and Thor looks pleased with himself. 

“Let’s do this thing,” Tony cries from down the corridor and then he appears. He is wearing a tuxedo, which would look very dashing, except the jacket is a glaring yellow. He has a top hat, a bow tie and a cane and his eye make-up is done daringly, making it look like his eyes are covered in shadow. Steve is behind him, dressed in a replica of the original Captain America comics costume. Bucky feels like the breath has been punched out of him.

“Bucky?” Jane asks, noticing how his face has drained of all colour, and she and Bruce swing into action, lowering him down flat even if he tries to shrug them off. Steve runs over, looking panicked, but Bucky manages to wave him away.

“I’m okay,” he gasps, feeling shaky. The image of Steve in the old Cap costume has… brought something back. Something he needs to sort through. “Just… a bit of a shock, seeing Steve-,” he says and Steve looks guilty for a long moment, even when Tony claps him on the back.

“ _The party don’t start ’til I walk in-_ ,” Clint sings as he enters, and then he freezes in the door. He’s wearing shorts, an orange t-shirt, a blue puffy gilet, socks and sneakers. He has a cap on and he looks so goddamn ridiculous but Bucky is _glad_ to see him. Clint runs over, his face a picture of concern, even when Jane and Bruce try to keep him at arms length. “What happened?” he demands and Bruce explains how seeing Steve in an old Cap uniform freaked him out, nothing to be concerned about, don’t panic.

Bucky forces his way into a sitting position, to find all of the Avengers eyeing him warily - even Darcy, who has appeared, wearing a ridiculous baby-blue suit and a white pompadour wig. Natasha is holding onto Darcy’s forearm, nails very close to digging in, and so the younger woman doesn’t move. Bucky is struck by the realisation that Darcy is probably older than he was when he fell from the train. Maybe not by much, but… 

“Go, all of you - get down to the party, the guests will be arriving soon,” he says. Sam and Rhodey appear, both dressed like FBI agents, complete with earpieces, Pepper behind them, dressed like Rosie the Riveter with her hair in perfect victory curls under the wrap. Bucky looks away.

“He’s right - the doors are about to open,” Pepper says, albeit apologetically. Steve comes over to make sure Bucky doesn’t need anything, and then lets himself be dragged away by Steve. The main six Avengers take the first elevator down, while Jane, Darcy, Pepper, Sam and Rhodey linger. Pepper looks at him concerned, and Darcy looks like she’s about to volunteer to take his place. 

“I’m _fine_ ,” he says, half-snarling at them. He doesn’t like being coddled, no matter his fragile state of mind, and the girls tut sympathetically. Sam comes over, just looks him in the eyes and nods. 

“You need anything, you tell JARVIS,” he says firmly, and Bucky nods in agreement. JARVIS helpfully queues up the first episode of Gravity Falls, and the others leave, just as it starts playing. Bucky watches, finally getting the costumes they were wearing, though Tony’s is still a mystery. It’s only a few episodes later when they’re introduced to the demon Bill Cipher than Bucky gasps out an ‘oh!’ and smiles. He asks JARVIS to bring up a feed of the party below that he can watch out of the corner of his eye, and he can see the others are having a good time. 

Thor currently has about four children hanging off his arms, and he looks like he can take at least two more, Jane standing nearby looking very anxious. Darcy isn’t too far away from them, flirting with some young men who are all dressed like football players, and she giggles at something one of them has said. All of the Avengers are entertaining children (and their parents), engaging in conversation and offering to help with some of the games that have been set up. Not surprisingly, Clint is a master at apple-bobbing, and Natasha can pin the ‘boo!’ on the ghost in record time. But it’s Steve who’s the real hit. 

He has been surrounded by a horde of children since the party started, and is now holding court by the ‘pumpkin patch’ (a roped off corner of the room with Jack O'Laterns and scatterings of beanbags and cushions). He’s obviously telling a story, his hands moving animatedly, and his face making exaggerated expressions. The children are enthralled, one little girl practically crawling into Steve’s lap, but he just keeps a hand on her back to steady her and continues his story. Bucky smiles to himself, and then nods.

“Are there any spare costumes, JARVIS?” he asks aloud and the AI pipes up immediately.

“ _Captain Rogers had the forethought to set a few options aside for you earlier today. They can be found in your bedroom, Sgt,_ ” JARVIS tells him. Bucky pads out of the room and heads to Steve’s suite, opening his bedroom door with some trepidation. 

There are four costumes laying on his bed. One, he recognised as the creepy man’s from Rocky Horror, and he dismisses that one outright. Another is the counterpart to Steve’s vintage Captain American costume, a monstrosity of red and blue lycra which Bucky cringes at. The third is obviously Tony’s idea, an outfit similar to the one worn by the Terminator, a film which he suffered through with Rhodey, and he pushes the costume away. 

The last one... he doesn’t have a clue who would’ve thought of it, but it’s perfect. A tuxedo with tails, perfectly cut like the ones the well-off men used to wear way back when, a shirt with a well-starched collar, bow tie, and polished shoes. He touches the fabric reverently, and then asks for JARVIS before he can think about it.

“Who thought of this one?” He asks.

“Agent Barton thought this would be agreeable to you,” JARVIS tells him and Bucky feels that swell of emotion again in his abdomen. As he heads to the bathroom, he asks JARVIS to find pictures of hairstyles that would match the outfit. He showers quickly, brushes his teeth and then, carefully studying the pictures on the mirror, styles his hair with gel until he’s happy with the result. He puts on the suit and the white gloves provided and looks at himself in the mirror.

A sense of vertigo overcomes him, a feeling of ' _This is me_ ', rather than ' _This is the Winter Soldier masquerading as me_ '. He is handsome, young, and the suit is tailored to show his strong frame, broad at his shoulders and tapering at his waist. Feeling excitement for the first time in a long time, he goes to the elevator and asks JARVIS to take him to the party. There is a pause but then the elevator moves and he focuses on centring himself. He breathes deeply and when the elevator comes to a stop, he straightens up and braces himself.

The doors open to a plethora of sound, shrieks and laughter from every direction and he nearly cringes back into the elevator.

He takes a deep breath and steps into the fray with his head high, casting glances left and right. He can see Steve from the elevator, and he moves in that direction, veering off to catch Clint when he sees the archer make a break for the bar.

“Hey!” Clint shouts over the music, a grin splitting his face. His cap has been pushed up slightly, but he looks excited and maybe a little bit tipsy. Bucky gestures down at the tuxedo he’s wearing and Clint winks at him. “You look great!” he says and Bucky ducks his head a little, embarrassed, but pleased. He gestures over to the bar and Clint takes his arm to lead them both over. 

Before they can get there, however, there’s a loud bang, and then the lights flare and die. Emergency lighting, floor-level and fire exit signs, flicker into life. The crowd of partygoers whoop  and cheer, but one look at the other Avengers confirms what Bucky is thinking – this isn’t planned. Clint’s grip on his arm has tightened, and he looks around, spotting Tony’s lurid yellow tuxedo jacket in the crowd - he drags them both in that direction. 

Tony’s looking around, a frown on his face, when they walks over - he’s muttering quietly, seemingly to himself, until Bucky can get close enough to see there’s a slim earpiece pinched over his ear, and he realises that Tony’s communicating with JARVIS. Steve’s nearby, the children he had just been entertaining clinging to his costume. He’s talking quietly to them, his face serene but his eyes keep flicking up to catch Tony’s gaze and when Tony shakes his head, Steve tenses.

“What’s happening?” Clint asks, Natasha and Bruce jogging over from wherever they had been. Tony brings them in closer, ducking his head to keep what he’s about to say between them.

“The Tower has been breeched. JARVIS is online, for the time being, but... whoever’s in this building will likely try to take him out as soon as they can,” there’s an edge to his voice that Bucky has never heard before, and it makes his blood run cold.

“Do we know who it is?” Clint asks, casting a glance over his shoulder at the partygoers. None of them seem very concerned, even though the main lighting comes from the Jack O’Laterns. But one in particular catches his eye - a multi-tentacled skull. His heart drops. 

“HYDRA,” Bucky whispers, fear crawling up his spine. He meets Tony’s gaze, who looks over his shoulder, finding the Jack O’Latern. He turns back and then nods slowly.  “They’ve come for - me…,” Bucky continues and Natasha huffs. Bruce adjusts his glasses with a frown. 

“What is happening, my friends?” Thor strides up behind him, with Jane and Darcy on his heels. Steve has managed to shake off the children, and he comes over too. 

“HYDRA have breeched the tower,” Clint says through gritted teeth. Steve swears under his breath and then goes into full-on Leader mode.

“Natasha, Clint, I want you to sweep the building. Drive whoever’s here _away_ from the party floors. Thor, let’s make it very uncomfortable outside. Thunder, lightning, a hurricane if you like. Bruce... stay down here,” he said, and Bruce relaxes. “I want you to keep the party going if you can. Keep people distracted, but safe. Let Sam and Rhodey know, keep Pepper informed,” he says and Bruce nods, turning on his heel to jog away in search of the others. “Bucky-,”

“I’m helping,” Bucky says sharply. Steve looks pained but Tony nods.

“Three master assassins are better than two, Cap,” Clint says quietly and Steve nods finally, though a muscle in his jaw ticks.

“Fine. But I don’t like it,” he says and Bucky inclines his head in agreement. “Tony, you come with me. We’re going to go from the top down, see if we can get these guys cornered. Does JARVIS know how many people are here?” Steve asks. Tony tilts his head, earpiece glinting in the dim light, and then he nods.

“He thinks about 40, but he’s lost some cameras. They’re breaking off into groups though, probably trying to go through different parts of the tower,” he relays to them and then reaches into his pocket. He brings out several small buds, like Clint’s hearing aids, and offers them to the group.  “These’ll hook you up to JARVIS, while he’s still running. We can’t communicate with each other, but we can use him to pass messages and help,” he explains, and the group take them, pressing them into their ears. Natasha winces, and Clint tilts his head curiously – Bucky realises he’s probably lost all hearing in one ear as a result. Bucky takes a bud and presses it into his left ear, and then waits.

He can still hear, but the sound is a little muffled. He looks around and the others are nodding to themselves, and then Clint turns to him.

“Natasha and I keep weapons and suits on every other floor, just in case. We’re going to head up – come with us,” he says and Bucky nods, turning with the other two to run off. They push through the partygoers, and head to the elevators – they are suspiciously dark, so Natasha leads them into the stairway. They walk quietly, barely breathing, all of them going still if an unknown sound echoes down to them. They reach the second floor in minutes, and soon they’re ducking into a conference room which isn’t being used for the festivities.

Clint punches a code into a cupboard locked in the corner, and it hisses open, dim lights showing its contents. Rows upon rows of handguns, a compact bow with a quiver full of arrows, and multiple black jumpsuits. Clint and Natasha grab one each and start to strip without a hint of shame, so Bucky does the same, discarding the tuxedo on the floor. Clint makes a small noise.

“Aw, tuxedo!” he whines and Natasha elbows him in the ribs, reaching for a clip and gun. They load up on ammunition and when they’re ready, they slip out of the room and start making their way up the floors. JARVIS is constantly running interference in their ears, passing on messages. Tony and Steve have cleared the penthouse without incident, and are working through the labs, while Thor is floating around outside, which is causing an unseasonal torrent of hail. Bruce, Pepper, Jane, Rhodey, Sam and Darcy are running interference with the partygoers, who have yet to mutiny after the disappearance of the Avengers.

“All clear on two,” Clint says quietly once they reach the staircase on the other side of the building. There is a crackle and then JARVIS relays the message to the rest of the Avengers. They work their way up the building, only encountering any trouble on level nine. Bucky is rounding a corner, breathing lightly when he sees a flicker of movement just around the bend. He holds a hand up to Clint and Natasha, muscle memory kicking in, and then he listens. He makes a carefully estimate, and holds up four fingers and then makes a motion in that direction. _Four people, just around the corner_. Natasha nods, fingers tightening slightly around her gun, and then she darts forward into the inky darkness that has taken over all the floors.

There is a shout and then Clint launches himself after her, Bucky rounding the corner at the same time. It looks like they needn’t have worried - three men are lying unconscious at Natasha’s feet and she is currently riding the fourth like a bull, her thighs around his neck with a thin wire looped between her hands. Bucky feels something within him tense, recognising that move. But the feeling passes as the man slumps unconscious to the ground. Natasha steps off him neatly. 

“Let’s keep going,” Natasha murmurs to them both, and they move on. As they sweep the floors, they keep encountering little pockets of HYDRA agents, but before Bucky can say anything, Natasha or Clint go ahead of him and disarm the group. Clint seems to be a bit more violent than Natasha, preferring to slam heads against walls rather than choke them out or stun them, but whatever gets the job done. 

They move like shadows, backs pressed to walls. They get to level sixteen before encountering anything of note - a lone HYDRA agent attempting to break into a minor server room. He doesn’t have time to say anything in his own defence before Natasha stuns him and he crumples to the ground.

“You’re a lot nicer than I am,” Clint hisses to her as she makes sure the server room is secure - she just raises an eyebrow at him.

Before they can move on though, the distant sound of gunshot reaches their ears. JARVIS tells them clinically that someone has attempted to shoot at Thor from one of the upper floors - the Thunder God, in turn, has grown annoyed and there is now a typhoon battering Central Park. The guests continue to be oblivious, however, according to Bruce’s messages. 

They continue to move up - level twenty-one presents the next hurdle. JARVIS warns them on the staircase that the agents had been alerted to their fallen comrades and they now had weapons drawn. Natasha and Clint both pull out their own weapons, and Bucky hesitates a moment before drawing his handgun and flicking off the safety.

“You hesitated,” Natasha tells him bluntly while they wait by the heavy fire door. Bucky feels the urge to lie, to deny the moments pause rise in his throat, but he swallows it down. 

“Yes,” Bucky admits. She eyes the gun in his hand and then stares him down for a second.

“Don’t,” is all she says before Clint pulls the door open and they creep into the next floor silently.

Bucky feels it as soon as they’re passing the first conference room. Something isn’t right. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he notices the way Clint rolls his shoulder, trying to ease a pressure that’s just built up. Natasha turns her head to the side, face impassive, but then she kneels on the ground, her free hand resting flat against the carpet. She holds it there for a second, and then moves it to the wall. She shakes her head and looks up at them.

“The floor is vibrating,” she says quietly and Clint makes a confused sound, just as a wave of noise hits them from further into the floor. Bucky drops to his knees, ducking low to avoid being seen, Clint reacting a second later, and he listens. 

Voices, quiet murmurs, whispers in the dim light. The HYDRA agents are moving forward, and Bucky remembers that there is another, larger, server room on this floor. The one that houses all the banks for SI’s computers, and some of JARVIS’ storage banks. The thought makes something in his throat clench.

Natasha gestures from the men to stay low while she moves forward, barely making a sound. She slips around the corner and Bucky finds himself holding his breath, waiting for the inevitable. There is a moment where it feels like the air is hanging still and then there’s a shout and Clint bolts from where he was crouched by the wall. Bucky runs after him and they witness Natasha ruthlessly take down HYDRA agent after HYDRA agent. One man crumples to the floor with an obviously shattered shin bone, howling in pain until Natasha stuns him with a widow bite. One agent tries to grab her while she’s crouched low but Clint tackles him to the floor and pins him down with a carefully placed arrow (one through the throat).

Bucky moves without thinking about it, and at a pace he isn’t even conscious of. Before he’s realised what he’s doing, he’s using the wall as a springboard and has launched himself at an agent, catching the man’s neck with the bend of his knee and dragging him down. It’s a sharp movement and then the agent stops moving beneath him. He notices a device attached to the server room door, a large mechanism that is shaking at a high-speed – he realises dimly that they’re trying to use the vibrations to open the lock, not realising that the keyholes are for show only and that the server doors only open for authorised personnel. It’s almost laughable. 

Something has closed off in his mind and if he took a moment to think about it, he would realise that it’s his humanity – he doesn’t see the agents as men and women, only as pieces of meat to bring down and destroy. The metal arm creates destruction wherever it touches, shattering elbow joints and splintering ribs. In the middle of the melee, there is only one agent left standing. He looks arrogant despite being covered in the blood of his colleagues, and he raises the gun in his hands with the sightline on Bucky, who watches with even breathing.

 “ _Sputnik_ ,” he says, his voice firm and calm and Bucky would laugh at how ridiculous that seems, but he suddenly can’t move.

It feels like all his muscles have gone lax at one – he’s still standing, but a strong breeze could send him sprawling on the floor. His vision tunnels, a ringing starts in his ears, and he feels dizzy, light-headed. It’s like someone’s hit him with a tranquilliser. He is dimly aware of the shouts of the fight around him, even as his legs give out and his knees hit the floor. Natasha flies past him like the Tasmanian Devil, shooting the agent who spoke directly between the eyeballs. He crumples to the ground, blood pooling around him. The muffled sounds die down, go quiet, and through half-lidded eyes, Bucky can see someone drop to their knees in front of him. 

The metal arm moves before he’s even consciously aware of it, beautiful Stark machinery tightening around a delicate neck.

Something very thick and very heavy lands a blow to the back of his head and he falls into oblivion.


	6. Two Steps Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky's road to recovery goes in direction no one expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, all, for your patience and support!
> 
> Again, this is unbeta'd and any/all mistakes are mine - this includes any Signs. If you have any corrections/suggestions, please let me know!

He wakes up to the blinding light of a hospital. He blinks furiously, head pounding, and groans low in his throat, tries to tug away from the IVs and drips connected to his body, but a strong hand pushes him flat again. He thinks, for a second, that he might be  _back_ , back there with electric pulses running through his brain and a sour mouthguard to stop him from biting his tongue and the constant ache of an arm that was never supposed to be there and he jerks, twists, tries to break free and then- 

“Bucky,” someone says, a cool hand on the side of his face, and he tries to open his eyes fully, struggles to focus. The hand retreats and a man he doesn’t – maybe – might remember swims into focus, handsome with blonde hair and sad blue eyes, and he smiles slightly, lips quirking. “Welcome back,” he says softly and Bucky strains against the bonds holding him to the bed again, a small sound escaping him. The hand is back, covering his flesh one. “Don’t struggle. It’s for your own safety. Go back to sleep,” the blonde says and Bucky sinks back down again.

**{#}**

The next time he wakes up, he feels a bit more human, if not totally with it. The blonde man – Steve – is reading a book next to him, and the quiet hum of machines echoes around him. He shifts, feeling the tug of a restraint against his wrists, and he settles back down with a small sound. Steve looks at him and closes his book, leaning forward.

“Gave us quite a scare there,” he says and Bucky just looks at him. Steve frowns. “Natasha thinks it must’ve been some sort of trigger-word. Something to ‘reset’ you, I suppose. She, well, she stopped it before it could completely take over,” he explains and Bucky nods. He can’t find his voice. Steve looks sympathetic. “We don’t know what it’s done to you. You’ve been unconscious for two days, Buck...”

Bucky flexes his flesh hand and Steve smiles, reaches out to link their fingers together. Bucky goes back to sleep, Steve holding his hand.

**{#}**

He wakes up feeling rested hours later. Steve is gone, and Jane is curled into the seat he previously occupied, eyes downcast on a heavy book that is balanced on her knee. She looks up when he shifts and marks her place, smiling.  

“Hi,” she murmurs, her voice soft and kind. Bucky tugs on the IV in his arm and she hushes him, standing up to help him sit up. “How do you feel?” she asks once he’s propped up by fluffed pillow. Bucky thinks, chews his lip and then just… waits. He can’t formulate a response. He can’t find his voice. Jane frowns and reaches for the call button. A nurse bustles in and looks at them both, expectant. “He’s not, uh, he’s not _speaking_. Is that normal?” Jane asks, worrying her thumb nail between her teeth as she looks between Bucky and the nurse. Bucky tries to prepare a response and then finds that he - can’t. 

**{#}**

The doctors tentatively diagnose him with Elective Mutism 3 days later. Bucky hasn’t uttered a word since he woke up, and finds that he can’t physically make himself speak – and often, he can’t think of anything to say anyway. He has been writing down responses (when he has them) until Clint storms into the room one morning. His neck is bruised, ugly and mottled, and Bucky chokes back any sound he could make in response. Clint sits at the bottom of the hospital bed, and raises his hands.

“You’re going to learn to sign,” he rasps, and then he starts signing the alphabet, saying the letters aloud. Once he finishes the third cycle-through, he reaches for Bucky’s hands. Bucky flinches back, but Clint holds on tight, bending his fingers into the right shapes and saying the letters out loud as he goes. Bucky goes along with him, watching how Clint manipulates his hands over and over again. The metal fingers are flexible as Clint pushes them into position gently, his own fingers trailing over them with an unbearable intimacy that Bucky can’t figure out how to respond to.

After that, Clint visits every day, for hours. He sits with Bucky and grabs random objects from around the tower, brings them in to Bucky’s hospital room and spends his time teaching Bucky the signs for each of them. Bruce nearly falls over himself when Bucky first signs at him for a glass of water. 

It’s how Natasha finds them on the third afternoon of ‘lessons’. She slips into the room silently, and Bucky gives her a small wave. Clint uses it to remind him of the sign for ‘Hello’, which is a bit like a salute, except you move your hand away from your forehead after a second. Natasha responds in kind, settling herself on the armchair next to the bed - Clint has been sitting at the foot of the hospital bed, legs crossed beneath him. 

“I’m not sorry,” Natasha says abruptly, not one for niceties, especially since she probably stolen his medical file from an unsuspecting nurse. Bucky raises an eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes up to the ceiling. “I did what I had to do to stop them. As far as we can figure, and that’s with Steve raising Hell at some higher-ups, that reset word would’ve wiped you completely. Bye-bye Bucky, even bye-bye Winter Soldier,” she explains and Bucky nods, rolling his shoulders. He had figured as much. 

Clint has a small smile on his lips. “She just likes knocking us guys out,” he says, his voice still rough and raw from the damage sustained to his vocal chords from Bucky’s attempted-choking. Bucky isn’t sure how to voice his guilt for it, but Clint hasn’t said anything about blaming him (yet). Natasha moves prettily speedily and whacks Clint up-side the head. 

“I don’t regret it,” Natasha reaffirms, her voice tense and Bucky nods, touching his fingers to his chin and bringing them away - < _Thank you_ >. 

**{#}**

He’s discharged back into the penthouse a week after he wakes up. Physically, he’s fine, aside from his complete silence, but Dr Hummel has increased his appointments to fives times a week, rather than the three he had recently cut back to. It doesn’t help - it’s just hour after hour of Bucky sitting silently while Dr Hummel tries to force some words out of him.  

On the afternoon after his release, he witnesses one of the ‘screaming matches’ between Steve and Tony that Clint had warned him about weeks ago. He is sat in the living room with Bruce, though they are both silent and distracted by other things. The peace is shattered when a shout comes from the kitchen. Bruce looks up just as Natasha sprints by, and she makes a motion at him that has Bruce leaving the room, heading for his own suite. Bucky is startled. 

He stands and follows Natasha into the kitchen, where Tony and Steve are on opposite sides of the island, both of them red-faced with teeth bared. 

“This isn’t the Good Ol’ Days, Capsicle. You can’t just-!” Tony snarls, his arms crossed over his chest defensively. 

“Can’t _what_ , Tony? Do you honestly believe that you’re a paradigm of virtue?!” Steve scoffs and Bucky winces. He can’t speak much for Tony’s history, but Steve was very good at hitting sore spots in fights - whether that was physically or verbally. 

“And I suppose your best buddy Howard-,” Tony starts and Steve slams his hands down on the counter top, causing it to shudder dangerously. Natasha is still lurking on the sidelines, ready to step in if needs be. 

“DAMMIT TONY, STOP COMPARING YOURSELF TO HIM!” Steve shouts, the volume enough to make Bucky flinch back. Tony pales, and Steve breaths harshly through his nose. “You are not Howard, and I wouldn’t want you to be. Ever. You are _you_ and I wouldn’t change that for _anything_ ,” Steve says, a bit desperate and Tony shifts, still defensive.

“What, not even for another chance with Peggy and Bucky and your whole gang and-,” his next words are muffled by Steve walking around the table and bodily pulling Tony against his chest, bringing him close. Steve has both arms wrapped around the shorter man, and is looking down at him, stricken.

“No!” he says, sounding pained and Tony huffs. “I’ve made my peace with this, Tony - with this time, with _us_. I wouldn’t change it - any of it,” Steve continues softly and Tony slowly relaxes. Steve ducks his head, murmuring words that only he and Tony can hear, and Tony leans against him heavily, his body finally giving in. 

Natasha taps Bucky’s elbow as she passes him, making a small gesture for him to follow her. She leads him back out into the living room, just as Clint appears out of the elevator and eyes them both quizzically. Bucky raises his hands, thinks for a second and then signs < _Tony, Steve, argument_ > and he hopes it makes sense. Clint frowns and then laughs, shaking his head. Natasha ducks past him, brushing his arm as she goes, and Clint watches her call the elevator back. With a jerk of his head, he and Bucky make their way to to the media room, leaving Tony and Steve on their own.

**{#}**

It’s quiet in the tower now - Rhodey has gone back to base, Pepper is back to a full schedule of meetings (and running around after Tony a little), and Sam has returned to Washington D.C., ostensibly to finalise a few things before he makes the official move to New York. Bucky finds that he spends most of his time with Bruce these days, both of them sitting in a mutually agreed silence. New York gets snow in the second week of November, and Steve arranges for them all go to Central Park for the day. Tony rearranges a board meeting to fit it into his schedule, and Bucky finds himself with a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and a fluffy hat jammed on his head. It’s only when they’re in the reception that Bucky freezes. 

Steve is the first to notice, doubling back to take Bucky’s arm in a gentle hold.

“Hey. It’s going to be okay. Everyone’s with you,” he says quietly, as Darcy lets out a loud ‘whoop!’ of excitement from the front of the group. Bucky nods, flexing his metal hand anxiously, the mechanisms whirring comfortingly under the plating. It doesn’t pain him anymore. Clint and Natasha appear at his side, and Natasha loops an arm around his metal one, anchoring him. 

“It’s no where near as cold as Russia, but you’ll get used to it,” she says with a smile, and Bucky huffs a laugh. He lets her lead him out of the building and into the air of New York in winter. It’s brisk, the wind burning at his cheeks in a few minutes, but the general chatter and laughter around him warm him from the inside. Jane and Thor lead the group, Darcy on Jane’s other side, singing Christmas carols at the top of her lungs as they walk towards Central Park. Bruce is right behind them, wrapped up warmly with a small smile playing on his lips. Steve and Tony follow him, their hands casually linked together with intertwined fingers, Tony occasionally leaning close to murmur something only for Steve’s ears. Steve smiles and tightens his hold, and something in Bucky moves with emotion. 

Clint and Natasha talk over him, exchanging small quips and jokes that they can see to follow, but no outsider would be able to make sense of. Bucky takes comfort in Natasha’s firm hold, letting himself being lulled by the pace of their walk, and the general noise around him. New York sounds the same, or at least he thinks it does - a constant murmur of noise running through the cities streets, comforting and low. 

Central Park sneaks up on them before Bucky is aware. There is a constant following of security, ahead of them and behind them, clearing the way for the _Avengers_ \- their presence is noted before they’ve even come into view. People are unsubtly trying to take photos on their phones (something Tony showed him a few weeks ago, practically bursting with excitement - Bucky hadn’t the heart to tell him he had seen an iPhone before), and there is a general hum of excitement as they walk past groups of gathered teenagers, who are all talking amongst themselves. 

They get into the park proper, and Darcy runs shrieking for the closest snow bank, dragging Jane with her. Thor laughs, a loud _boom_ of sound, like thunder, and Steve casually shoves Tony in as well - the billionaire rises from the snow, covered in a dusting of powder, his face furious and Steve laughs, even as Tony pulls him down. 

Before Bucky is even aware of what’s happening, he’s been drafted into a Snowball War. He’s teamed up with Tony, Natasha and Darcy, who are a terrifying trio out of sheer ruthlessness. Their strategy seems to be ‘Chuck a snowball and then run like hell’, which Bucky does with silent laughs, dumping one down the back of Steve’s coat in a sneak attack. He sprints away even as he hears Steve’s cursing, nearly running headfirst into Thor, who has a pile of snowballs cradled in one arm and using the other to fire. He ducks around the God, back to base, where Tony is slowly creating a stockpile of ammo. Darcy sprints back, grabs a few, and then runs out again, while Natasha strolls in, picks a few choice snowballs, and then casually strolls back out. Bucky watches her go with a raised eyebrow. 

Seconds later, the screams of fury rise across the battlefield and Bucky ducks as Natasha leaps over the rudimentary wall they had constructed. She crouches low, a blush high on her cheeks and she smiles, genuinely, at him. She then rolls out of the way as Clint attempts to slam-dunk one onto Natasha’s head over the wall. Bucky is too quick, however, and grabs the archer by an arm, dragging him over the wall and into Bucky’s lap. Clint yells as he falls over, catching Bucky’s sleeve in an effort to stop himself, pulling it up to reveal Bucky’s metal arm.  

Once Clint’s in his lap, laughing with breathless gasps, Bucky isn’t sure what to do with him.  Before he can do anything however, there is a shout from behind them. Natasha is on her feet in a second, and the security team that usually trail at a discreet difference (and had been previously unsubtly placing bets on which team would win) all tense. A woman approaches them, her gaze set on Bucky - specifically, his metal arm. He stands, lifting Clint to his feet with him and pushing the other man behind him, shielding him. He resists the urge to pull his sleeve back down.  

The woman looks like an avenging angel, her cheeks brushed red from the cold and her righteous fury, her nails digging white crescents into her palms where she’s clenching her hands so tightly into fists. Her eyes are on Bucky, like a hawk watching its prey. No one gets between them before she reaches out to scratch him.

Her nails leave a trail of fire in their wake and Bucky flinches back, feeling Clint’s hand tighten around his arm, pulling him back as Clint steps away. A bodyguard steps forward and catches the woman before she can lunge for him again. 

“MY SON!” she shrieks, causing several bystanders to look over. She is writhing in the hold of the bodyguards, trying to break free. Bucky has his metal arm behind himself, his hand resting on Clint’s hip, keeping him safe. He can’t find words. The woman twists again and screeches in anger. “My _son_ was there, you monster! You _killed_ my son!” and Bucky feels like the breath has been knocked out of him, reeling back from the blow her words have dealt. Steve has appeared, placing himself between the woman and Bucky, hands up to placate her. He is trying to speak to her through her shrieks, repeating the mantra - “You **killed** my son! _You_ killed my son!” she keeps saying, and the words are pounding in Bucky’s head. He feels Clint tug on his arm.

“Come on,” Clint says, the words registering vaguely. His fingers tighten on Bucky’s upper arm, the sensors under the plating recognising the pressure. Bucky turns dumbly to look at him and Clint takes his hand and pulls him along. The Avengers have fallen in line, forming a barrier between the woman who has now broken down into sobs, and Clint who is pulling Bucky away. 

Clint keeps dragging him away, into a thicket of trees, the sounds of the scene behind them fading. Bucky still feels numb, his pulse thundering in his ears even as they slow to a stop. They are still in the densest part of the trees, hidden by the shadows, seemingly alone in Central Park, when Clint stops. Clint wheezes, bending slightly with his hands on his knees, breathing deeply. Bucky can only watch as Clint catches his breath. Clint glances up at him and rolls his eyes.

“You could at least try to look slightly out of breath by that,” he gasps out and Bucky raises an eyebrow, before bring his fist to his chest and moving it in a circle - < _sorry_ >. Clint shakes his head. 

They stay like that for a few minutes, waiting for Clint to catch his breath. Bucky is replaying the scene over and over in his head, chewing on his lip, his eyes downcast. He sees Clint move, rising to standing, reaching for Bucky. He knocks Clint’s hands away and raise his own.

< _She’s right. I am a monster,_ > he signs, feel his heart break with every twist of his fingers. Clint shakes his head and raises his own hands, forgetting he has a voice, forgetting the little buds in his ears - this is something he can only say with his hands.

< _Not to them. Not to_ ** _me_** _,_ > Clint signs, his face making expressions to help translate his hands, jabbing his own finger into his chest hard enough to make a sound. Bucky shakes his head, raises his hands to reply and then drops them - he can’t explain. Clint reaches for him again, grasping his wrists with fingers still cold from the snow, and pulls Bucky close - their eyes meet and Clint seems to be searching his face for something. He pulls Bucky closer, breath ghosting over Bucky’s cheeks, his lips, causing Bucky’s skin to prickle. 

He remembers how to do this - how to lean in, to tilt his head and press his lips to another persons. To pull them close, by their hands, their neck, their hair. Hold them close, bodies in a neat line, something heady building between them. But he can’t quite remember the sensation of lips on his. He wants to - he wants a new memory.

He bridges the distance between them. Clint’s mouth is soft, pliant against his own, and he makes a small sound at the back of his throat, pressing closer. Bucky wants to reach up, push his fingers into Clint’s short hair, bring him closer, but Clint seems to have the same idea - and at the first touch of his archer’s fingers against Bucky’s neck, before even of them even blink, Clint is pressed against the nearest tree with his arm twisted behind his back, making pained sounds, knocking Bucky out of whatever had gripped his mind in that moment. 

Bucky steps back with a choked off sound, his hands shaking. Clint huffs a laugh, bringing his arm back around, shaking his arm out. He checks his wrist, twisting it around in his grip, as his turns back around to face Bucky. His face is pained.

< _See?_ > Bucky signs, dropping his hands to his sides. Clint runs a hand through his hair, looking further into the trees. There is a rustle of sound behind them, and Bucky whirls around, hands up to fight, but it’s only Tony, pushing through the trees to reach them.

“Great hiding place, Robin Hood,” he tells Clint who pushes past him with a huff. Tony raises an eyebrow behind his sunglasses. “Who spat in his coffee?” he asks Bucky, who waves a hand - he didn’t want to have to explain. Tony shrugs, and they start walking back to the group, shoulders brushing companionably. By the time they’re back with the whole group, Clint has taken his usual place at Natasha’s side - their heads are bent together, talking lowly between themselves. 

Steve spots Bucky and comes over, gripping his shoulder fiercely. 

“You okay, Buck?” he asks and Bucky signs that he’s okay at him. He looks around and raises an eyebrow, raising his hands to sign Bruce’s name - he makes the sign for ‘D’ with his right hand, and taps it against the pulse point (or where they would be one) on his metal arm, before signing ‘B’, four fingers straight with the thumb curled in. Clint had shown it to him - it meant ‘Doctor - B’, and Clint explained that’s how he signed Bruce. Tony frowns for a second, before his face lights up in realisation.

“Bruce? He went back to the tower. Lady Macbeth back there gave him a bit of a fright, he wanted to relax for the rest of the day,” he explains. Bucky huffs an annoyed sound, and Steve squeezes his shoulder again.From the front of the group, Darcy shouts at them to ‘ _Come the_ ** _fuck_ **_on, Bridget,_ ’ - a reference that Bucky, Steve and Thor look blank at - and they make their way to the ice rink. 

Ice-skating with the Avengers goes as well as one could expect - Natasha and Clint are good, great even, but Natasha is graceful whereas Clint is showy (and occasionally loses his footing). Thor is steady, Jane clinging to his arm while Darcy skates backwards in front of them, laughing. Tony clings to the edges, though he tries to make it look like he’s just relaxing there. Steve is wobbly but picks up the skill quickly, whizzing past Thor with a laugh. Bucky stays off the rink, wary of the proximity he would have with innocent people. He leans with his arms crossed against the railing, watching the team laugh and stumble, until Natasha skids to a stop in front of him. She nods at him, but there is something in her eyes that tells him this is not a check-in.

“Clint told me,” she says. Bucky feels his mouth open to say something, defend himself, but Natasha stops him with a shake of her head. “Don’t. He’s not upset - just confused. And his ego is a bit bruised - it’s been a while since someone could pin him against a tree,” she adds with a wicked grin. Bucky shakes his head with a huff and looks at his hands. He still feels guilty. Natasha taps his arm to get his attention, and he looks up at her again. “You’re fine. You’re taking it one day at a time. That’s all anyone can ask of you,” she tells him, with far more softness that he thought Natasha was capable of - but then she gestures him to lean closer and with a frown he does. She drops her voice to a low murmur. “You hurt him, and I mean emotionally, mentally, spiritually, there is no where on this Earth you would be safe from me. And unlikely anywhere in the afterlife, either,” 

She then straightens with a smile, and sets off again. She pauses a little bit away and looks at him over her shoulder, red curls catching the low sun.

“You should get some skates on,” she tells him, and he isn’t sure whether she means literally, or figuratively.

Probably both. 

 


	7. Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you have to give something up, to get something back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I am unbelievably sorry about the wait. Life got away with me, and the last few months have been pretty crazy.
> 
> I reckon the next chapter will be the last, so... Thank you all again for your patience. I hope you enjoy!

A week later, the snow on the ground has melted but the temperature in the tower has yet to thaw. Clint is avoiding Bucky at every possible turn, even disappearing into a ventilation shaft at one point in order to get away from him. It’s frustrating, because there is so much Bucky wants to say - _I’m sorry, please talk to me, I need you to…_ \- but every time he tries to raise his hands, Clint turns on his heel and disappears through the nearest exit. 

It gets to the point where Bucky feels he should hide away in his room, with his books and films, just so Clint can be around his friends without Bucky driving him away. His second day of this tactic is called to a close when Sam walks in and pulls him into an impromptu session down at the gym. Bucky is stretching on the mats when Sam explains to him why he’s down here - Bucky just raises an eyebrow at him, and looks around. Sam knows what he means.  

“You need to get rid of some tension. This is it,” Sam says, spreading his hands at his sides and bouncing on the balls of his feet. He calls a count down and then Sam is lunging at him, going to his middle. Bucky dodges the strike, and steps out of the way, turning neatly to face Sam again. He goes for a upper-body hit and Sam blocks it, and it goes from there. Sam gives as good as he gets, though Bucky does consciously try to avoid using his metal arm. By the end of it, Sam is out of breath and Bucky can feel sweat running down his back, but he feels good. 

He feels like he’s done something. 

He and Sam grab some bottles of water from the fridge in the locker room, and then head back upstairs, towels slung around their shoulders. The afternoon is moving on and the sun is dipping low in the sky when they enter the living room - Natasha is sitting with Clint on the L-shaped sofa, heads bent together and voices low.

Bucky freezes in his tracks - to get to Steve’s rooms without going via the elevator, he has to walk past the seating area and towards the kitchen, where the cabinet is in the hallway. To do _that_ , he needs to walk past where Clint is perched on the back of the sofa. 

He almost goes for the elevator, but Sam just keeps on walking, with a grin in Natasha’s direction, and so Bucky just follows. He walks past Clint with his head down, trying to get to the cabinet as fast as possible. Natasha says something to Sam, so he stops, but Bucky just focuses on the latch he can’t even see on the side. He’s nearly there, he’s so close, his hand is reaching out and - 

“ _Avengers, Assemble. Avengers, Assemble,_ ” JARVIS starts to tell them from the ceiling and simultaneously, Bucky’s hand catches the latch. He swears in his head, turning sharply on his heel and heading back for the gym at a jog, heading for the locker room.

He punches in the code for his locker, breathing for a moment while the lock disengages, and he can get ready. He ignores the bustle around him, the movement of Steve next to him, Natasha on his other side, as they both strip down and then dress in their uniforms. He pulls his t-shirt up and over his head, and reaches into the locker.

Behind him there is a smaller amount of chatter and then Tony’s voice comes in over the speakers.

“We need to speed up here, guys. We’ve got, uh, _activity_ down near Battery Park. I think this might be more your thing, Thor,” Tony tells them, and Thor lets out a battle shout, which causes the rest of them to collectively flinch.

Bucky starts to get dressed. They decided not to stray too far from the HYDRA-issued outfit, as it was actually surprisingly practical. They tried other colour-combinations aside from the black-on-black, but none of them had really _worked_. Bucky agreed to get rid of the face-guard, but insisted on keeping the goggles - when it was sunny out, they helped him see without having to wear sunglasses, due to the shaded lenses. Steve hadn’t looked happy, but he had agreed.

Within three minutes, he’s tugging the final knot into place on his boots, and he stands, hand automatically going for the guns held in his locker. After every battle, Stark minions clean and reload them, so they’re nearly always pristine when he gets them. He gives them a once-over, slides some magazines home and loads up on ammunition. With a final tug on his thigh holster, he leaves the locker room and makes his way to the quinjet. 

**{#}**

The battle is fierce. It turns out their intruder is a creature from Thor’s world, known as the World Snake - essentially, it’s a very giant, very pissed-off snake. Thor seems to recognise it, and keeps shouting at it to calm down, but Bucky isn’t the only one who’s noticed it has piercing blue eyes, an unnatural colour. The Mind Gem has been used. 

They are trying to contain the fighting, but every time the Snake slips into the sea, it reappears a bit further up the coastline, and they all have to change position. Bucky has been on seven different rooftops this afternoon, and the sun has disappeared from the sky now - they are fighting by the light of whatever New York’s Finest can give them, which includes sixteen policeman with hand torches standing in safe spots. They keep having to move, too. 

Bucky is down on top of one of the skyscrapers, eye close to the scope so he can track the Snake’s movement. Currently, Thor is attempting to ride it like one would ride a mechanical bull, but the Snake is trying to throw him off, while Tony is blasting it’s underside with his repulsors - Sam is flying above them both, taunting the Snake to reach higher and higher. Steve is on the ground, trying to monitor the situation, while Clint is on another rooftop, and Natasha is making sure the area is clear, while also communicating with Erik Selvig about if there is any known ways to subdue the Snake. Bruce is waiting with the police, monitoring the situation from afar. 

The Snake snaps it’s jaws at Tony, who falls back with a curse over the comms, to which Steve tsks. JARVIS is reading them the legend of the Snakes origin, and when he explains the part about the Snake supposedly being a child of Loki - well, you can hear Tony’s laughter without the comms.

“Wait, wait, wait, your brother is a Snake-Momma?” he says, and Thor makes a disgusted sound, though it could also be a grunt as the Snake tries to throw him off again.

“He is _not_ \- Jörmungandr was Loki’s _pet_ , my father thought them too dangerous and so cast them out of Asgard. We did not know where they had fallen,”

“Well, apparently, this one has been lurking in the Hudson - suck on it, Loch Ness monster!” Tony said cheerfully, dodging out of the way to miss the Snake’s writhing. 

“Unfortunately, Loki was the only one who could actually - _ugh_ \- control them!” Thor says, swinging the hammer down onto the Snake’s temple - it barely flinches. 

“To hell with this man - your brother is a _freak_ ,” Sam says, swooping in close and then rising at the last minute. The Snake barely misses him.

“Guys on high, you guys getting anything good?” Natasha asks, the sound of gunfire in the background. Bucky can see her riot of curls bouncing as she makes her way back to the group. Clint confirms what they’ve been seeing for the last half hour - a giant Snake writhing around and taking half of Battery Park with it. 

“Do you think you could get a clear shot of the underbelly?” Steve asks and Bucky taps his fingers on his gun - he and the team figured out he could communicate by morse code over the comms, as JARVIS could register them and translate.

“ _Winter Soldier confirms he has a clean shot by the jaw of the Snake - but would like Thor and Iron Man clear before he attempts_ ,” JARVIS tells the team and there’s a moment of silence while they all think about it. The Snake shrieks and tries to buck Thor off, to no avail. 

“If this beast is controlled by the Mind Gem, a simple Midgardian bullet to the neck is not enough to subdue it,” Thor eventually says, spinning Mjölnir in his hand before bringing it again down on the Snake’s head. If possible, the Snake shrieks louder. It whips it’s tail around and Clint curses, colourfully.

“Clint!” Steve snaps, causing Natasha to huff a laugh down the comms. Bruce voice crackles in.

“Is this a Big Green situation, guys?” he asks, his voice tense and nervous. Bucky taps his fingers on the gun again, and JARVIS speaks up.

“ _Winter Soldier believes that the Snake is big, and green, enough on it’s own, thank you, Dr Banner,_ ” he tells the team and Tony laughs. 

“Serious _burn_ , there, Bucky!” he says, his voice approving. Steve’s sigh means that Tony’s probably in for another lecture on appropriate workplace manners - Steve’s ones are legendary. The Snake twists again and manages to throw Thor into the air, who instantly lifts his hammer to take him aloft. The creature hisses at them and throws itself back into the Hudson, causing a groan off annoyance. 

“Falcon, track it’s movements. Clint, Bucky, you guys -,” Steve starts but they are cut off by a loud shout. Bucky looks up, straining to see and watches as the building Clint’s on top of is clipped by a powerful flick of the Snake’s tail. Dust rises from the damage and the building starts to list slightly.

“Clint!” Natasha shouts, already racing to the building - Steve throws out an arm and catches her around the middle, wrestling against her pull for a second. 

“Falcon! Can you see Hawkeye?” Steve asks, his voice tense - Natasha strains against his arm around her middle, and Bucky can see where she’s trying to dig her nails into his hand. Steve is just ignoring her attempts. 

“Negative. I do not have a clear visual, I repeat, I can’t see Hawkeye,” Sam chimes in, sounding worried. Bucky runs to the corner of his roof, trying to see over to Clint’s roof, trying to spot him. The dust is growing thick and fast now, as the building slowly starts to cave in on itself. 

“CLINT!” Natasha screams, the comms ringing with her voice. It causes Bucky to flinch back, but he still keeps his eyes trained. The lights they have available swing around to the building, but the light just highlights the debris flying up into the air. 

“Iron Man, get up there!” Steve says and Tony rockets higher in the sky, going over to near Sam and circling the roof.

“It’s too dark, and there’s too much dust, Cap, I can’t see a thing!” Tony says and Bucky’s heart jumps to his throat. If they can’t find Clint before… He looks around and judges the distance between the rooftops, before taking a few steps back and putting the safety on his rifle. He reaches back and clips it into place in the specially designed holster on his back, before rolling his shoulders. 

He hasn’t done this in a while.

He takes a running leap for the next rooftop and there is a moment, just a moment, when he’s suspended in the air, the world going thick and fast below him, before he hits the next roof. He absorbs the shock of the landing by bending his knees slightly, before running again, leaping between buildings, occasionally rolling off the momentum, always moving. Clint’s building is slowly going down, and he has to get there in time, he _has_ to - 

The building is the next along and Bucky can already see he’s going to have to jump over the ledge of the roof to land at a steep angle on the other side. It’s risky - if he has too much momentum, he might well just sail over the roof and end up going into the side of the next building. He pauses for a second, bounces on his feet a little, and then takes off again.

As he moves, the building lists a bit further, causing the ledge to rise up sharply. He catches the ledge with his knee and goes tumbling down, reaching out his metal arm to find a hold. His hand catches on a loose tile, and he grabs on, scanning the area. He sees Clint a bit further down, curled on his side with his arm wrapped around a bit of piping - it looks like it’s coming away from the building as Clint pulls on it more and more. 

Steeling himself, Bucky lets go of the tile, judging the distance and grabbing a hold of the open rooftop door as he goes past. The shock of the hold jars on the connection between his metal arm and his body, and he hisses between his teeth at the pain. He tries to get Clint’s attention, slamming his hand against the roof but Clint is turned away from him and isn’t looking and his hearing aids might’ve been damaged and… 

Bucky curses his lack of voice, suddenly. He hates this silence he’s been cursed with, because now would be the time to scream Clint’s name, even as the building lurches again and begins to crumple in earnest. He opens his mouth to scream, to shout, anything, but all he makes is a choking sound which is drowned out by the groan of steel beneath them. 

He has one last shot at this, angling his body to meet the pipes Clint is holding on to. He takes a deep breath and lets go.

The angle of the roof is sharp now, nearly 90 degrees, and so he gains speed faster than he calculated It’s only by chance that his right arm catches the pipes as he goes past. The pull nearly jerks his arm out of it’s socket, but with a low groan, he holds on. Clint does not move, and Bucky fears the worst. He looks around and tries to think - _think_ \- and find a way out of this.

But there isn’t one. The roof angle is too sharp now that he wouldn’t be able to get them clear in time - and the building is creaking and groaning dangerously, steel bending against it’s will.

With a quick thought, Bucky anchors his right arm tightly around the pipes, hooking his elbow around, and then with his left arm, the metal gleaming dully in the dust, he covers Clint’s bowed head, curling as tightly around the archer as he can. He mouths prayers he can’t remember, pressing his lips to Clint’s short hair, his right hand’s fingers pressing to whatever part of Clint’s arm he can reach, and he holds on, as tight as he can. 

He hears the groan, feels a shudder, and then the whole world drops away. 

**{#}**

He wakes up with a small noise, the _beeps_ of hospital machinery all around him. For once, he is not chained to the bed, though a nasal cannula is looped across his face and bandages around his flesh arm. He blinks the grit from his eyes and looks around.  Surprisingly, there is no one around. He checks himself over, and aside from a few scratches and bruises which will no doubt heal in a few hours, there's a strip of duct tape running down the forearm of his metal arm with Tony's handwriting on it. 

' _Don't touch! Terminator needs an adjustment. - T_ ' is all is says, but the gesture makes a small smile tug at the edges of Bucky's lips. He looks at the clock projected on the wall and sees it’s in the very early hours of the morning, so everyone else is probably in bed or in the medical ward with him. He carefully feels off the cannula, and sits up in bed. His whole body aches to the point where he couldn’t say what hurts more, but there is a drive in him, a need to reach out for someone who isn’t in the room. 

Bucky slips out of the bed, hospital gown providing no protection from the chilled air of the room, and tries the door - it’s sealed, and he’s reluctant to take it down with his metal arm, so he looks for another way out. There is a vent in the upper corner of the wall behind the bed, big enough for him to climb through if he really wanted… 

Which he does.

Getting to it involves some clever balancing acts, because the high ceilings mean that the vent is not reachable just by standing on the bed alone. After he climbs the chair balance on the bed, and uses the very top of it to reach as high as he can, he can just about grasp the slats of the vent cover. He pulls it free with a quick tug, dropping the cover on to the bed. He lifts himself up, groaning at the pull on his already sore muscles, and crawls through. Bucky thinks to himself that the vents here are surprisingly clean, but then he remembers that Clint likes to skulk through them on occasion, so Stark probably sends a roomba through every week or so. 

The walls aren’t too thick in the Avengers Tower, so he can see into the next room easily - it’s empty. He lifts himself higher, into the ceiling between the floors, and crawls along, occasionally stopping to look through vents. He stops when he comes across Sam, who is asleep with a nasty stitched up cut along his cheek. It’ll heal but Bucky still takes a moment to mourn the fact that Sam had to get hurt in the first place. 

It takes three more rooms after Sam, and an entire loop of the medical ward to find who he’s seeking. The vent is opposite the bed, and Clint is asleep, an arm thrown up over his eyes. Aside from a few bandages and a splinted hand, he looks to be mostly in one piece. Bucky pushes the vent open, holding on to the cover so it doesn’t clatter to the ground, and lowers himself to the floor. 

Clint stirs, lifting his arm up to look around the room. Bucky freezes where he stands, half in shadow, waiting with baited breath. Clint doesn't sleep with his hearing-aids in, and if he stays still… Clint’s eyes lock on to him, and he just looks at Bucky, _really_ looks at him, and then meets his eyes. They just stare at each other for half a minute, though it feels like longer, and then Clint huffs.

“Was wondering when you’d show up,” he mumbles, shifting in the bed - his speech is slightly slurred with sleep. He uses his free hand to lift the edge of the sheets and Bucky drops the cover with a _clang_. There is something desperate in him, something raw and terrified and needy, and it’s scary, so scary to feel that, when all he had felt for years was nothing but pain and exhaustion.

He crosses the room in three steps and climbs in next to Clint, tucking the covers around them. It’s a tight fit, two fully-grown men in one hospital bed, but Bucky doesn’t care, just carefully arranges himself around Clint, so that his head is pillowed on Clint’s shoulder, mouth brushing against his collarbone, an arm slung across his waist and their feet tangled together. Clint makes a small sound and curls his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, bringing him close.

“Remind me to say ‘Thanks’ in the morning,” Clint murmurs, his eyes already slipping shut as sleep drags him down. Bucky nods, more to himself, and closes his eyes as well, letting the soft rise and fall of Clint’s chest lull him to sleep. 

**{#}**

Bucky jerks awake in the morning to the sound of shouting and running. He glances around and realises that he and Clint have moved around in the night. Clint is sprawled across his chest, face buried near Bucky’s metal arm, still asleep. Bucky has one hand on the centre of Clint’s back, and the other on the back of his head, and he takes a moment to run his hand over Clint’s hair, enjoying the sensation. He can almost forgive Clint for the drool currently seeping through his hospital gown.

He pokes Clint under the ribs and the archer wakes up with a yell, jerking enough to knee Bucky’s thighs quite hard. Bucky huffs and taps Clint again to make him look up. Bucky exaggeratedly mouths ‘Outside’ and Clint frowns at him before rolling his eyes. He lifts his head as much as he can and turns to look at the door.  

“HE’S IN HERE, JERKS,” he shouts as loud as he can, to be heard over the ruckus outside, and the door of the room swings open, Steve charging in followed by Natasha and Thor. Steve visibly deflates with relief.

“Jesus, Bucky, you had me worried!” Steve says as he stops just inside the door, a hand on his chest. Thor also looks similarly relieved, though Natasha just looks amused. Clint _harrumphs_ at them all, and tucks his face against Bucky’s side, so that Bucky can feel the warmth of his breath against his ribs. He allows himself a small smile. 

“They seem to be well, Captain,” Thor says, the sleeves of his tunic rolled up to his elbows. He looks ready to break down doors if needs be, which is probably why he was called in on the manhunt in the first place. 

“Thanks for the heads-up, JARVIS,” Steve says ruefully, glancing up at the ceiling. 

“ _As you are aware, Captain, I have no monitoring system on the medical ward, for your own privacy,_ ” JARVIS says, sounding irritated at being accused of failing on the job. Bucky is also aware that JARVIS is lying through his (non-existent) teeth - he monitors the whole tower, even the cleaning cupboard on the 39th floor. He feels somewhat charmed by the idea of the AI lying for him.

“You’re okay, though, Buck?” Steve asks, sounding worried. He moves closer to the bed, apparently completely nonplussed by seeing Clint curled around Bucky. Bucky just nods, idling running his hand over Clint’s back. Natasha makes a small noise but when he looks at her, her face is impassive. She truly has the best poker face. She touches Steve’s elbow and turns to leave.

“Come on, let’s let them alone,” she murmurs and Steve nods, hesitating for a moment like he wants to say something, but then he nods again and follows Natasha out the door. Thor gives them a thumbs-up and a big grin as he closes the door behind him, which has Bucky huffing a silent laugh.

“Wassat?” Clint mumbles against his side and Bucky taps his shoulder to get him to look up. With his hand which had previously been on Clint’s back, he makes an ‘O’ sign by his chin, and then moves it away quickly, opening it up. < _Nothing_ > 

Clint gives him a sleepy smile, drops a tiny kiss on Bucky’s clavicle, and then settles down to go back to sleep. While Clint dozes, Bucky just marvels at the weight of him in his arms. Clint is solid and lean, muscle twisted around bones. There are callouses on his finger tips, from drawing the bow string back repeatedly, and another discoloured line of skin on each of his forearms, the result of being an ambidextrous archer who has a habit of letting the string snap against his forearm. Bucky spends his morning studying the skin of Clint’s arms, his hands, memorising every scar and bump and callous until he could pinpoint them in the dark. Clint never stirs throughout Bucky’s ministrations, only wriggling on occasion. 

He wakes up when a nurse brings in some breakfast - pastries and coffee and fresh fruit, nothing but the finest for the patients at Stark’s own hospital. She leaves the two plates on the side and Bucky rubs on Clint’s shoulder to wake him up. Clint stirs, but presses his face into Bucky’s side, whinging. 

“Nooo,” he whines quietly and Bucky jostles him a bit harder. Clint keeps whinging, until Bucky is nearly rocking him from side to side. He wants, no, _needs_ Clint to look at him, so he can tell him there’s some breakfast for them and they need to eat and he feels utterly broken, all of a sudden, like someone has glued him back together tentatively and it’s all just crumbled underneath him. 

_He remembers being six and Ma saying she’d already eaten, even though her face was taut and her cheeks were hollow._

_He remembers stealing an apple, just one, with a massive bruise on it’s side, and sharing it with a small blond child who had knobbly knees and a persistently runny nose._

_He remembers being frustrated, angry, choking on the hunger that permeates his childhood, and made him fear hunger in his adult life. Made him stash away any food they would give him in the army, trying to ration it all until he had_ **_enough_ ** _because that was it, that was always -_

“Breakfast,” he hisses out, breath pushing past his vocal chords. He nearly claps a hand over his mouth. He hasn’t spoken in a very long time, the rise of his chest feeling alien to him, and Clint notices it. He freezes where he’s whinging and then pushes himself upright, so he’s crouched over Bucky, fingers pressing against his neck.

“What’d you say?” Clint asks, his hair flat on one side and a mess on the other, face flushed with sleep but eyes sharp. Bucky falls in love, right then.

“Breakfast,” he whispers again and Clint’s face lights up, a grin splitting across his face, his eyes wrinkled at the corners. Bucky holds his hips with both hands and says it again. “Breakfast,” he says and Clint lets out a yell of joy, lunging forward and bringing their lips together in a hot, searing kiss. He kisses Bucky’s mouth, his cheeks, his forehead, his chin, his eyelids - anything he can reach and by the end Bucky is laughing, not the quiet huffs of the last few weeks but loud _guffaws_ and hiccups. 

And all this over _breakfast_ **.**


	8. Finally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you have to stop running. When you stop, you might realise you've been where you needed to be, all along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, guys! This is it! This story is now - complete!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read/kudos'd/commented and support me along the way. I am so thankful for your kind words and little gestures of 'Hell yeah!', in whatever way you express them. 
> 
> I won't be writing anything more in this 'verse, at least not at the moment, but swing by my Tumblr and share with me your thoughts, feelings and headcanons. 
> 
> Much love to you all! x

There are somedays when it’s not okay. When the lights are too bright and the noises too loud and it’s all he can do to hold on with his fingertips. He might spend the afternoon curled up under a blanket in Clint’s little loft, watching New York pass by under his nose, or he might spend it screaming into a punching bag, ignoring the sand spilling onto the ground beneath it. 

He can never predict, though Clint tries. He makes a calendar, and rates each day on a scale of 1 to 10 and on really, spectacularly bad days, when Steve has had to hold him down while he tries to claw his own arm off, Clint will hold him close on the bed, and they will look at the calendar, and Clint will say “See? You had more good days than bad ones this week. You’re getting there.” 

He seems to forget weeks go by in 7 days. 

On his good days, he trains. He goes on missions. He lies in the sun on the balcony of Avengers Tower and sings old songs with Steve, folk songs that Sarah Rogers brought over with her from the old country, and ones that Steve does not, cannot forget. 

On good days, he laughs, he sings, he speaks.

On bad days, he sits in silence. 

By mid-December, he might have 3 or 4 good days a week, which is enough to relieve the pinched look in Clint’s face, and eases the coiled feeling in his stomach, somewhat. Dr Hummel still eyes him suspiciously, like he doesn’t believe Bucky when he says “I’m okay, today,” but he has to let it go and move on with it.

They all do.

The world moves on around them, even though Bucky sometimes feels like he’s the turning point of the whole universe. Things go around him, forever in his orbit, but he’s still, never-changing… In direct contrast to the feeling of desperately wanting to scream repeatedly into the void. 

But missions - he feels it in his _bones_ when he’s on missions. That idea, the urge, to go hurtling into the void, screaming with joy and fear at the same time. It’s why he’s sometimes reckless, why he sometimes just misses that bullet, or jumps a little too late. After, he’ll find Clint, who will either be laughing or nearly crying, and Bucky can never tell what it’ll be. He gets swept up in an embrace, Clint’s fingers trembling over the latches of his uniform, and they stay silent, just breathing, until the shaking stops and they can talk.

He apologises more times than he can count. 

It’s excruciating. 

Christmas Day is blissfully quiet - no monsters, no aliens, no need to save the planet. Just them and theirs. JARVIS wakes them up early in the morning, and Clint disentangles himself from Bucky, huffing as he sits up. Bucky trails his hand, his metal hand, down Clint’s side and smiles when Clint wriggles from the ticklish feeling. Two months ago, more, he wouldn’t have been able to touch someone with his metal hand - but now, it is the one curled around Clint as they sleep. It is the one that keeps him close, and keeps him safe. 

They make their way to the main floor, Bucky tugging on a baggy jumper he had stolen from Steve some time ago, Clint with bare feet and a t-shirt over his boxers. They take the lift, and pause when the door dings open on their floor - the hallway is decked out in fairy-lights, colours flashing again as they pass. Bucky reaches down and links his fingers with Clint’s, who smiles and pulls him down into a kiss. 

They kiss softly, lazily, lips barely brushing with each breath they take, until there is a retching sound from the end of the hallway. Bucky opens one eye to spot Darcy exaggeratedly clutching her stomach, bent over. Jane is next to her, a small indulgent smile on her lips. 

“C’mon, you two, or Thor is gonna open everyone’s presents without you,” she says and Clint sprints down the hallway, skidding around the corner with a loud shout. Bucky follows at a more sedate pace, letting Darcy fall into pace next to him. She links her arm around his metal one and he smiles at the casual contact, the way she does it without hesitation - Darcy would embrace the whole world without a flinch, and it warms him to know that about her. 

The whole group are amassed in front of the 8ft Christmas Tree Tony had arranged to be delivered this year. They had decorated it in rotation, until the whole thing was a unorganised mess of baubles and tinsel and Mjölnir, perched happily about halfway up the tree. It hasn’t toppled over yet, but no one is tempting fate by sitting too close. 

“Hey!” Steve says, scrambling up from the floor where he was kneeling by the gifts when he sees Bucky enter. He grins and claps Bucky on the shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Buck,” he says, and Bucky returns the sentiment, smiling when Steve pulls him into a hug. This ease had been something he hadn’t realised he had missed until it had come surging back into his life. 

Steve lets go and Thor pulls him into a crushing embrace, before letting him go and turning back towards the tree. Natasha has a sharp eye on him from the sofa, where she is curled up next to Sam, who has an arm slung around her shoulders, a blanket covering them both. Bruce stumbles over from his secret entrance, a bookcase full of scientific tomes, and he makes his way directly to the kitchen, likely for the tea. 

“A very merry Stark-mas, Terminator!” Tony shouts as he ambles in front the kitchen, two mugs in his hands. He kisses Steve on the cheek and passes him a mug before going to sit on Natasha’s otherside. Clint reappears from the kitchen too, mugs in hand and Bruce close behind him, and he hands one over with a smile.

“Rhodey’s Grandma’s secret cocoa - best you’ll ever have,” he says with a wink and Bucky blows slightly on the frothy surface before him. It smells amazing. 

“So, why are we up at-,” Sam checks the clock projected on the wall. “7.30am?” he says with a groan and Natasha grins at him.

“Presents!” Tony says, pointing at the large pile in front of him. Steve makes a face, which Tony notices, so he whirls on him. “What?” he asks and Steve crosses his arms, mug balanced carefully in his hand.

“There are a lot of presents under that tree, Stark,” he points out and Bucky makes a noise of agreement - he has never seen so many gifts under a tree, and it makes him feel a bit… sick. They never had very much, as children. They would get maybe a book, or some new Sunday shoes, for Christmas. Nothing like this. Tony takes a sip of his cocoa and tilts his head, a lazy smile crossing his lips.

“I know - which is why half of them are going to be donated,” he says and Steve gapes at him. Tony waves his free hand around. “I just like unwrapping things. They’re going to get rewrapped later, anyway,” he says.

Bucky nudges Steve with his elbow, before ducking away to kneel on the floor next to Clint, who has laid down and stuck his head under the tree, so he’s looking up through the branches. Bucky kicks him lightly and Clint hums in acknowledgment, and waves a hand to bring Bucky closer. Bucky sighs, puts his mug down and lies on the floor. After some awkward shuffling, he wedges his head between what feels like two books, and looks up. 

The lights play on the baubles which casts colours back onto the branches, a kaleidoscope of lights and colours playing above them. With his noise of wonder, the other Avengers must have looked over, and soon Natasha is lying down next to him, looking up through the branches with a soft expression on her face. He can hear Darcy whisper to Jane, and the answering laugh, and the rumble of Thor humming an ancient song about Yule, and then there is Tony, whispering soft nothings to Steve, while Rhodey huffs, and Steve is silent next to Sam and Bruce, thinking about all they’ve lost. And everything they’ve gained too.

He doesn’t track how long they lie there, though he can normally count the seconds perfectly. Clint’s calloused fingers stroke lightly over his hand, and he thinks. He relaxes.

When they all resurface, they are dazed for a moment, before Tony shouts a battlecry and Darcy lunges for the nearest present. Only Steve shouting over them manages to make any difference to the noise.

“We should take it in turns,” he says, once he has their attention. Tony looks put out but the others all agree readily enough, and Darcy begins handing out gifts. When Bucky quirks an eyebrow at her, she shrugs. 

“I did my reconnaissance last night,” she explains with a grin and Jane tuts at her. Darcy throws a package at her in answer (it turns out to be a very nice robe from Asgard, and Jane thanks Thor profusely for it). 

Bucky’s first present is a boxset of the Toy Story series, from JARVIS, along with a typed-out invitation to visit the Pixar Studios, whenever he would like to. He smiles at the gesture, and cradles the set in his lap for the rest of the morning, fingers idly touching it whenever he thinks no one is looking - he can’t remember ever receiving something so extravagant. Not even Tony’s thoughtfully gift of the new StarkPhone for everyone, payment free, of course. The first thing Darcy does is shout for everyone to get together for a ‘selfie’ and later that day, on the official Avengers Facebook and Instagram, there’s an embarrassing picture of the Avengers in their Christmas pyjamas, crowded into one picture, all looking content and happy.

It gets 1.3million ‘Likes’ in about 30 minutes. JARVIS proudly tells them that it’s a new record. 

Clint looks flattered by the gifts Bucky gets him - some fingerless gloves, a card game called ‘Cards Against Humanity’, and an book on the history of archery. Bucky spent weeks agonising over the gifts, until Jane and Steve had taken pity on him and helped him figure out what he wanted. 

Turns out, it was just to make his partner happy. 

Once the presents are opened, and Steve is flushed pink with happiness over his new set of colouring pencils (“160, Bucky!” he says, stroking reverent hands over the polished wood of the case), they all decide to go get ready for the day, agreeing to meet back in the communal room in an hour to start on lunch. 

Clint takes his hand and leads him to the kitchen entrance, opening the cupboard doors and ducking into the staircase. Bucky pulls the doors closed behind him, and follows Clint down, until they reach the little loft Bucky had found months ago. 

“Hey,” Clint says, stopping and turning on his heel. Bucky raises an eyebrow, and takes a half-step back. He’s still not overly comfortable with people entering his personal space, but with an other-half like Clint Barton, it’s something he’s adjusted too pretty quickly. Bucky raises a hand and signs < _Hello_ >, and Clint grins. “I have another present for you,” he explains, reaching into the small bookshelf tucked by the seat overlooking Manhattan. He pulls out a small box and passes it over. 

“What is it?” Bucky asks, looking at the tiny box and frowning. Clint waves a hand at him excitedly.

“Open it, open it,” he says and Bucky shakes his head, even as he slips a finger under the joint in the wrapping paper, carefully peeling it open. He and Steve had been teased for their method of unwrapping presents, carefully peeling the paper open and folding it neatly to be used again, but then Natasha had joined in and the teasing had stopped, until by the end of the unwrapping session, all the wrapping paper was folded aside from the pile of shreds next to Tony and Thor, who both had the decency to look mildly embarrassed. 

The last bit of sellotape slips free and Bucky pulls the paper away. It’s a small black box, no bigger than a deck of cards, and his heart lurches a little - it look suspiciously like one of the boxes you would get in jewellery stores. One that would house a-

“Clint,” he says, his voice a little desperate because he hopes to God he’s misinterpreting, he is not ready for that, _they_ are definitely not ready and what the _Hell_ is Clint thinking, giving him a - the lid slips off. “Oh,”

Nestled inside some bright blue wrapping paper is an old-fashioned style compass, silver and engraved with flowering leaves. It looks similar to one Steve had, decades ago, and Bucky lifts it out of it’s casing with a sigh. It’s beautiful.

“Open it up,” Clint prompts, reaching out and twisting his fingers into the fabric of Bucky’s sweater, his nervousness coming through. Bucky clicks the lock at the top, and the hinge swings open.

Inside is an old magnetic compass, still balanced precariously on it’s hinge, pointing due north. But tucked into the other side, like Steve had a picture of Peggy Carter years ago (and now has a picture of Tony Stark, covered in grease but frozen in time, dancing along to whatever music was playing in his workshop), there is a picture of the Avengers. It had been taken on that day in Central Park, while Bucky had been avoiding the ice-rink, and it’s the six of them, Bruce having come back out in the evening. Thor has Natasha and Clint under each arm, Tony hanging off his shoulders, with Steve smiling over the other and Bruce in front of them all, looking shy but content. They’re all happy, practically glowing with it, laughter captured in their eyes and playing on their lips. 

It’s so perfect that Bucky is lost for words. He touches his fingertips to his chin and brings it away - < _Thank you_ >, he signs and Clint smiles, leaning up to kiss Bucky on the cheek. Bucky warms at the touch, pocketing the compass and setting the box down on the side. Clint links their fingers together and leads him down the stairs into the apartment proper, not even hesitating as he pulled Bucky into the bathroom behind him.

Well.

They wouldn’t be the only ones a little bit late.

**{#}**

Okay, so they’re a little later than planned, and Bucky’s hair is still dripping wet. They clamber out from under the island just as Jane bustles past them with a pot of parboiled potatoes, and the smell of the ham cooking is already permeating the air. Darcy clucks her tongue at them as she follows behind Jane, prompting a wink from Clint, and then they’re called in to help. 

Bucky gets partnered with Sam to wash, peel and cut the vast array of vegetables, while Clint is kidnapped by Natasha to help her with making gingerbread and Vzvar, a sweet Russian drink usually served during Christmas meals. 

It seems to be a combination of traditions that make the dinner tonight - the ham is something half the team remember having for lunch on this day. There’s also a chicken sitting on the side, waiting to go in the oven, something that Steve had specifically asked for, and Bucky remembers why - a roast chicken was big enough to be shared among your neighbours, and maybe some saved for the coming days too. 

Thor is currently seasoning a pork belly, talking loudly with Rhodey about the beasts they usually feast on in Asgard, his smile a bit strained in the corners - Jane had been in London with Darcy for the last few weeks of November, and Thor had disappeared not soon after. When they had gotten back, all Jane would say was that Thor’s mother had been killed, and Loki had died as well. No one looked particularly sorry to hear about Loki, but most of the team understood the pain of losing a mother. And when nobody was looking, or he thought no one was, Thor’s smile would slip in the corners and his eyes would go distant, as though he were looking somewhere else, somewhere far away, where they couldn’t reach.

Bucky had always been tempted to ask, but never had. 

Two hours later, and the meal is halfway done, and Bucky is relieved of vegetable duty for the time being, because there isn’t enough space in the oven. He goes over to the living room and slumps down next to Bruce, yawning.

“They’re exhausting, aren’t they?” Bruce asks, his tone light, as he reads the book Tony got him for Christmas - a biography of Stephen Hawking. Bucky rolls his shoulders and feels the flesh and bone one crack a little. It relieves some of the tension he’s carrying. 

“A little,” he admits, his voice low. Bruce’s lips quirk up at the corners. 

“I feel like an old man sometimes - even though I’m the same age as Tony. I feel like they’re all running me ragged and soon… well, I’ll just have to stop,” he says, turning the page. Bucky eyes him, sweeping the broadness of his shoulders, the muscles in his arms hidden under a comfy sweater, the callouses on his hands. 

“I don’t think so,” he eventually says, tucking his hands into his sleeves. “Now, Steve and I _are_ old,” he says with a smile and Bruce huffs a laugh.

“Our geriatrics,” Bruce says playfully and Bucky smiles. Bruce puts the book down, pinching his glasses off and dangling them between his fingers. “How old would you be, now?” he asks, and Bucky feels that familiar tightness whenever he speaks of what should be, not what is. 

“97. Nearly 98,” Bucky says and Bruce nods a little. Bucky pulls at a loose thread in his sleeve, his eyes darting away to watch the winter sunlight play over the skyline of Manhattan. “Sometimes, I think - I should be dead, now. But not because of all,” he makes a sweeping gesture over his body. “This. But because, if everything had gone the way it should’ve, I would’ve grown old. I would’ve married, had kids, the whole thing and now-,”

“Who says you can’t?” Bruce asks, tilting his head and his eyes looking over Bucky’s shoulder. He turns to look and Clint is there, in the kitchen, dancing next to Natasha who has one hand on his shoulder and the other mashing potato peel into his cheek. Clint laughs, and Bucky looks back at Bruce.

“I think we’re both a bit too damaged for that,” he explains and Bruce shrugs, opening his book again.

“Time can heal all wounds, Bucky,” Bruce says, before his focus drifts back to the book. Bucky frowns, and brings is knees up to his chest. The compass clacks against his side where it’s hidden in a pocket, a reassuring weight. He lifts it out, and opens it up. The needle swings around before settling, pointing over his shoulder, pointing north. 

It points to Clint. 

**{#}**

Later, when they’re all nearly sick to their stomachs with food, half-drunk on mulled wine and some dangerous Asgardian mead that Thor dragged out, Bucky lies on the sofa with Clint sprawled across his lap, idly playing with his hair. _Up_ is playing on the TV and everyone is a state of semi-conciousness, happy and full of food. Bruce is asleep in his armchair, book open on his stomach, and Natasha has taken off his glasses and put them on the side. She is curled up next to Darcy, sandwiched between Sam and Rhodey, and Darcy is carefully plaiting and replaiting Natasha’s curls, while Pepper, who joined them after lunch, sips from a glass of wine on the other side of Sam.

Thor has Jane in his lap, holding her close while she doses, and he’s looking at her like she hung the stars in the night sky, and put the sun there too while she was at it. She murmurs something to him and he pulls her closer, and smiles. Steve has Tony wedged against his side at the end of the sofa, and Tony has outright fallen asleep, his face buried against Steve’s side, and while Steve’s eyes are trained on the TV, his hand is constantly stroking Tony’s arm, constantly reassuring him.

They look like one, big, happy family, which Bucky supposes they must be.

As Clint hums against his thigh, Bucky thinks - it will not always be this easy. There will come a time when they will fight against each other, rip each other limb from limb, tear each other to shreds. They all have it within them, be they God, Superhuman or just a talented man with a prehistoric weapon. They are beyond capable. 

But Bucky thinks of the soft smile Tony gives Steve, just Steve, and the way Thor’s eyes crinkle in the corners when he laughs, and the way Natasha hums when she’s laughing (but not really). The shout that Sam has whenever he wins a game of one-on-one basketball down in the gym, the quirk of Rhodey’s eyebrow, the twist of Pepper’s lips. The way that Jane mouths the words when Darcy sings along to her iPod, the way that Bruce turns the pages of his books (so carefully), the way that Clint smiles, laughs, cries, swears, sings, loves-

He is jarred from his thoughts by Tony jerking awake, and rolling to his feet in one swift movement.

“Champagne,” is all he says, before he disappears into the kitchen and presumably the chilled wine fridge just beyond. Steve is left with a gaping space where Tony had once occupied, but he doesn’t seem to mind, just holding the position until Tony returns to slot himself back into place. 

Pepper gets up at one point and goes to help, and a few minutes later she comes back carrying a bottle of champagne and a handful of glasses, Tony behind her carrying the same. Bucky nudges Clint out of his daze and Natasha murmurs quietly to Bruce until he wakes up, blinking sleepily at her. Everyone takes a glass and Tony lets the champagne pops open with a ‘ _Whoop!_ ’ as the cork goes flying, even when Pepper rolls her eyes. He pours the sparkling drink into the glasses nearest to him, while Sam opens the other bottle and pours it into everyone else glasses. Tony gestures for them all to stand, which everyone (albeit reluctantly) does. 

“A toast,” he says, raising his glass. Everyone does the same, while Tony looks around with a smile. “To… JARVIS,” he says, raising the glass to the ceiling. The group laugh and raise their glasses higher too. “A most benevolent leader, long may he reign,” Tony says solemnly.

“ _Thank you, Sir. But if I may-?_ ” Jarvis replies and Tony waves a hand as if to let him say what he wants to. JARVIS’ monitoring systems pick up the gesture, and the AI continues. “ _I think a rather more prudent toast would be to - friends, new and old_ ,” And Bucky looks at Steve who raises his glass in Bucky’s direction - he returns the gesture. “ _Family, here and gone_ ,” and everyone looks at Thor, who’s grief is so fresh it’s almost tangible. He raises his glass to them all. “ _New loves, and enduring ones,_ ” and Steve smiles at Tony while Bucky tilts his head at Clint, who grins at him. “And _the Avengers - I hope that you shall all continue to protect this world, for as long as it may need it,_ ” 

“Hear hear,” Steve says gruffly, pointing his flute of champagne to the middle of the group. They all lean in, glasses clinking together, and Bucky feels Clint lace their fingers together, pulling him closer, and Bucky lets himself lean against Clint as he takes a sip of the champagne.

Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t fall. He doesn’t slip, he doesn’t lose his footing. He is grounded. He is safe.

He is home. 

**{The End}**


End file.
